


Trading It All

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-27
Updated: 2006-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's A Wonderful Life"- Brian Kinney style ; Post *scarfing* episode - After Michael's "You're Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake!!", Brian had gotten an interesting offer over the phone... another advertising job, in New York - Once knowing Michael's plans w/David to move to Portland, Brian never went to Justin's prom, accepting the job - We are, almost, a full year later, as Brian has become the Toast of the New York/Manhattan advertising world, but he's lacking *one thing* that will make him happy... ; Sub-Summary : A melancholy moment during a Christmas party leads Brian to explore his life... A chance meeting with a visiting *stranger* to his office allows him the opportunity to rethink the choices he has made. He learns if he plays his cards right he might be able to save his soul from disgrace... and a certain Hell... How does one rewind the past in order to be sure that their future has the right outcome?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****

 **One Thing**

 ****  
__

_By Finger Eleven_

 __  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****

 **Restless tonight  
`Cause I wasted the light  
Between both these times  
I drew a really thin line**

 ****

 **It's nothing I planned  
And not that I can  
But you should be mine  
Across that line**

 **If I traded it all  
If I gave it all away  
For one thing  
Just for one thing  
If I sorted it out  
If I knew all about  
This one thing  
Wouldn't that be something?**

 **I promise I might  
Not walk on by  
Maybe next time  
But not this time**

 **Even though I know  
I don't wanna know  
Yeah, I guess I know  
I just hate how it sounds**

*************************

Brian Kinney was, intentionally, locked in his office. He'd been leaning against the window casing of the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows in his Manhattan office. He could hear the echoing noises from the employee's party going on a floor below him.

Half-dressed in an Armani tuxedo, he placed his shaking hands in his pockets, contemplating what to do in order to waste the days off he'd been given by his co-partner, Hollis Lieberman He didn’t know what was wrong with him tonight. Why was he so jittery, like a nervous schoolboy on his first date?

Ho-Ho-Ho. Merry Fuckin' Christmas!!

December 24th was here and going strong. Pretty soon it would be Christmas Day and he was already wishing it was December 26th. There was something quite mediocre about the holidays these days. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it revolved around the day he'd accepted this job at Hollis Lieberman & Associates.

For this entire year, every holiday he seemed to relive that exact moment, minute by minute, aching for every second to do over… when he’d turned his back on The Pitts and the one good thing in his life he had going for him.

Champagne flute in his hand, Brian drowned the rest of the expensive alcohol down his clogging throat. It pained him to recall that day and what had happened afterward. The heated arguments, the hasty goodbyes and the strangled departure from all that he knew and loved.

  
Some things he'd been happy to see the back of, but there were others that simply left him salivating for hours on end. His relationship, or lack there of, with Michael. The biggest cut of all.

Thankfully, he'd pop open another bottle of high-priced liquor and find the bottom of the bottle a few hours later. He flipped his wrist over to glance down at his watch. His date was late. Well, escort was more like it, but there were no complaints from his side of the fence. A warm body was a warm body after all.

The buzzer on the desk phone sounded, signaling the outer office wanting to ask him a question. Cynthia must have come back upstairs, wondering where Brian had gotten off to.

All Brian had to do was slip the ear piece inside and click a button along the thin chord coming from his pocket. "Yeah, speak to me." He adjusted the mini-microphone to pick of the vibrations of his voice.

"Brian... the party's almost over.” The tell-tale pout was clear in the slurred tone. “When are you gonna get your sweet ass downstairs and enjoy in all the festivities?" Cynthia sounded slightly more inebriated than Brian would have expected of her. The phone conversation was forgotten as she approached the door leading toward his office.

The knob was turned. What sounded like someone pounding the paneling with the flat of their palm reverberated in the spacious suite.

Brian tugged the ear piece out. "I told you to only bother me when my… date showed up!! Go away!"

"Brian! Come on. Don't be a party pooper! Everyone's asking about you! They're thrilled to death about the new year. All these fabulous new prospects of clients. The exciting campaigns you've dreamed up. They don't want another Hollis Lieberman, Brian. Fifteen years of the cold shoulder and flat-rate paychecks doesn't make for a respectful bunch of employees." Cynthia bunched her fist up, banging on the door. She jiggled the door handle. "It's Christmas, Brian. Don't be another *Scrooge*!"

"Cynthia?" Brian used his most saccharine sweet voice.

"Yeah, Brian?" Cynthia thought she might have gotten through this time.

"You're fired!!" Brian literally threatened her with this action every single day, lately. Problem was he couldn’t say it with a straight face without feeling a little bit too Donald Trump.

"That's it! Kinney, you've plucked my last nerve. Just remember who's got your cell phone, huh? Isn't Michael still on speed dial?!" Cynthia pretended to be moving away from the door.

"Don't.... you..." Brian started at a dead run for the door, threw the lock and nearly plowed into a tipsy, yet sneaky, personal assistant. "... dare!" He reached out to grab onto her thin biceps, trying to hold her up while she swung in his grip.

"Hehehehe..." Cynthia snickered out as her eyes opened at half-mast. Her champagne glass barely held in her hand. "I got you out of your office. I won the bet! Woo-Hoo!" She tried to raise a fist in triumph, but managed to slosh sparkling liquid over Brian's nice tuxedo shirt. “Who- oops.. Sorrah, bossman.” Her Rastafarian impression was weak.

Brian squinted his eyes at Cynthia as he set her on her feet. "I should REALLY fire you this time!"

"Can't!" Cynthia put the edge of her glass to her lips, taking another sip. "You love me too much." She plopped an extremely wet kiss on his cheek, leaving a dark, blood red imprint on the pale skin. Reaching up to wrap her arm about Brian's neck, she nearly strangled him without realizing her power. "Come with me, Bri! The party's still goin’ strong! It'll be like you haven't missed a thing."

Brian hefted his shoulder under her sleeveless festive holiday sweater. "Tell you what I'll do. I'm gonna walk you to the elevator and... I'll push the button for you." He made this measly effort seem like he was saving her from certain death. He walked with her down the hallway that connected all the offices to the main area of floor space. He wandered over toward the direction of the elevators.

As he was accomplishing this mighty task, Brian spotted a striking young man walking through the Fire Exit doorway, coming up from the back stairs of the building. This person could very well be his yet-unnamed date that should have been here over an hour or so ago.

Once the elevator doors swished open, Brian spotted one of the regular office temps inside. "Hey, Kevin!" He transferred a drowsy Cynthia into the, already full, arms of the shy young intern.

"Kyle, Mr. Kinney." Kyle corrected one of his bosses as he tried to keep the sagging female body from falling. He soon was able to secure an arm around her trim waist.

Arms akimbo on the elevator doors, holding them open for a bit, Brian dipped his head back in. "Take her back to the party. If I don‘t see her there in ten minutes… I‘m demoting you to mailroom."

Kyle nervously laughed, but then thought that it could be true. Then he realized something. “But I work in the mailroom…” Where the hell else could he be demoted to? He tried to readjust the papers in his arms, while catching the weak-kneed woman in his grasp. She was slipping between his legs, not able to get a good footing on the elevator floor.

Something peculiarly familiar slipped out and fell to the carpet.

Feeling a tad bit sorry for dumping, literally, his drunk secretary in the young man’s arms, Brian bent to pick up what had fallen. He’d only glanced once, but it was enough to see the cover of the comic book, intertwined with manila files and scribbled notebooks. He’d tensed, suddenly very keenly aware of his moment of breathless wonder. Not Captain Astro, but regular old superheroes in flight.

“Sorry, Mr. Kinney. I was on a break when I read this… I swear.”

Brian used a curt hand movement to shush the young man. “Just… don’t worry about it, Kyle. Take care of her and there might be a promotion in your future.”

Kyle's’ eyes brightened in wonder, hugging the woman to him like a coveted teddy bear. Her moans muffled in his sweater vest. “Really?”

“Nope” Brian backed away, letting the doors close. Placing his hands in his pockets he stared his reflection down in the mirrored texture of the doors. "Christ, Mikey! What are you doing to me?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding down the shape. How many times in the past six months had he’d been reminded of Michael, wherever he was during the day… no matter what was happening? Why was Michael so heavily on his mind. “What… is your damage?!” He felt like pounding his forehead on the metal doors of the elevator… just to see if he could feel… something.

"Do you often talk to yourself?" A disembodied voice spoke up from around the corner.

Brian lifted his head. "I'm sorry?" Where...? Who...? He walked around the hallway to where the shadow was cast on the tiled flooring. "Can I help you?" He didn't want to assume much without knowing who he was talking to.

The stranger was simply gorgeous. Dressed all in black, including a light rayon, black trench coat. His skin was pale and his hair was raven black, styled and brushed from his forehead. His lips were blood red and plump against his sculpted features. He had the permanent *five o'clock shadow* appearance along his jaw line, like it was a deeply embedded tattoo. He was looking over the pegboard listing of offices that hung on the wall, showcasing where everyone was located on the floor.

"Do you know which office is Hollis Lieberman's?" The voice was deep, melodic and mesmerizing enough to stun prey at a second’s notice.

Brian… wasn’t immune. He crossed his hands in front of him. He squinted his eyes at the intoxicating stranger. "And you would be...?"

A dazzling pair of pearly whites snuck out between those blood red lips. "An old acquaintance."

Brian rolled his eyes. He'd heard words like that before. He was pretty sure Lieberman was a closet homosexual who had simply become an old cranky, rat bastard. "Yeah. Okay." He crooked his fingers while turning on his soft Italian loafers. "This way." He could hear the light footfalls of the man's steps as he followed him down the corridor.

Hollis' office door was slightly ajar.

Brian knocked once. "HO! HO! HO! Hol?!" He called out to warn his partner that he was coming in. In case there might be something else going on. He didn't think of not walking through when there was no gruff response sent back, like usual. He simply walked directly in, through the double entry way.

Brian's breath fogged right in front of his face. Whoa! What-?

The temperature of the entire room dropped into the negative digits. It felt like someone had left the freezer door open all day.

"What. The Fuck?!" Brian felt the rough brush off as the man rushed past him to gain entrance, directly for Hollis.

The man made his way over toward the desk, where the huge executive leather swivel chair sat facing toward the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Hollis had a different view of Manhattan. One that spoke of ownership of his own advertising firm and quite possibly the entire high-rise building.

"Awwww.... shit!" The man mumbled the profanity, clearly disturbed by what he’d seen. He stormed away from the chair, frantically running his hands through his, now, unkempt hair. "I'm too late. I'm *ALWAYS* too late!!" The last few words were muttered quickly under his breath, as if he was used to talking to himself and the many voices in his head. Reaching inside his deep pockets, a blood red cell phone, embossed with flames, was pulled out. One button was pressed to speed dial a particular number.

"Excuse me?" Brian scrunched his brow in puzzlement.

Sharp, coal black eyes penetrated Brian's face. "When was the last time you talked to Hollis?" He was waiting for the other line on the phone to be picked up.

"Look, what's going on...?" Upon further glance at the chair Hollis was seated on, Brian began to notice that his co-partner hadn't moved or said one word. As he slowly approached the desk, he was able to see that an old handgun lay, limp, in the cold, pale hand. "Holy Shit! Is he...?" He could barely stop his teeth from chattering from the below-freezing chill of the room.

"Dead? Yeah. But not from what you'd think." The man got another voice on the line. "Hey! It's me. Change of plans. He‘s already gone. Yeah… uh, well, I don‘t really know. All I do know is it‘s not what we were told to expect." He turned his back on Brian to hold a more private conversation. He wandered over to the wall of windows, tugging the sheer curtains across the view. "So... what do I do now?" He paused for a few minutes before stopping in his tracks. "You want me to... what?"

Brian was too speechless to care why this stranger was here. "Uh... shouldn't we be calling the police... or an ambulance, at least?"

"Huh?" The man's dark cool black eyes flashed toward Brian's direction. "Yeah, someone else is here." He heaved a huge sigh in frustration. "No, he doesn't know shit." A hand went on his hip to stress attitude. "No, of course I don't know who he is. Ask him?" He covered the mouthpiece in order to block out noises. "Who are you?"

Before Brian was about to spout off his full name, he thought better, deciding to turn the tables and inquiring about the stranger. "You first!" His hot breath was causing fog to roll through the air.

The young man smirked. "I got a *live* one, man. This may take me awhile. Yeah, I got it!" He nodded his head in response as well. "I do. I understand. I told you I got it!" He ended his phone call, placing the phone back in his pockets. "I suppose you're curious."

Brian sat down in one of the chairs flanking Hollis' desk, crisscrossing his arms over his shivering chest. "An explanation of something might be nice." He flipped his watch. "It's nearing midnight... in half-n-hour. It will be Christmas Day soon. NOTHING bad, terrible or awful can happen on Christmas."

The man crossed his own arms over his chest. The cold temperature wasn't even bothering him. "Who says?"

Brian shrugged in nonchalance. "I don't know specifics, but I think it's been pretty much a given throughout the centuries. Along with Christ’s birth and that Jesus guy. Oh… and Jolly Ole Saint Nick… and all"

"How would you know something as sentimental as that? I thought you were the King of Cruel and Doom?"

Brian's face went stone cold. "And I thought you said you had no idea who I was?"

The man chose to step forward, advancing on Brian. He took the corner of Hollis' desk to sit on as he faced Brian in a staring contest. "Give me a few minutes. I think it's all coming back to me." He intently gazed at Brian, who tried desperately to look away. "A year ago. I'm feeling a *party* atmosphere, but there's an feeling of despair and sadness, underneath. I like that." A creepy, sinister smile spread across the full lips.

Brian squinted his eyes toward the young stranger. "Christ! That could be ANY holiday." He was trying to throw a curve ball into the mix.

The eyes grew colder, like the room. It was as if he was downloading information straight to his brain. "Ah! But you see... Brian... Kinney... it wasn't an annual holiday that I'm thinking of. This was more personal. Private. Included just family... and friends. In fact, one of your best friends. Michael, to be exact. Or should I say... `Mikey'?"

"This... is bullshit!" Brian angrily stood up and paced to the open doors of Hollis' office, but soon found himself blocked from exiting. An invisible wall of solid air kept him from leaving. “Hey… no fair.”

Some other force slammed the double doors shut in his face. The bolts thrown and secured.

"Uh-Uh-Ah, Brian. Not so fast. Seems you and I have an old *bet* to settle."

"Settle what bet?" Brian kept his back facing the stranger, who sure didn't seem like such an interesting person to get to know any longer. He nearly huddled into his body, like when he was a child fending off Jack's fists. He closed his eyes to ward off the memories.

The footsteps crawled closer, approaching Brian's hunched back. The hot breath brushing over the hair on his neck. A wayward hand popped over his shoulder. "Does THIS... ring any bells?"

The frighteningly familiar silk scarf Brian had bought for himself, on his thirtieth birthday, was dangling from the lone fingers.

"Of course, the last time you saw this..."

Brian didn't see the other arm coming around his right side, perfecting the loop around his neck needed to complete a loose stranglehold.

"You were dangling from the material... and getting some pretty serious rocks off. Celebrating by giving yourself the last and greatest Big *O* of your life." The man did a quick move that managed to wrap the scarf about Brian's neck with precision deftness. He didn't tighten his hold to begin strangling Brian, but he was coming close.

Brian reached up with both hands to put some space between his neck and the cloth. "Who are you? And what do you want?" He’d dealt with many demons in his mind, but they’d never fashioned themselves in the flesh before. He didn’t know what to expect next… and this scared him beyond anything that had occurred in his sorry-ass life.

The man tugged Brian backward to hit his chest. His mouth fit perfectly near Brian's ear lobe. "Do you know how long I waited for you that night? If you'd have just given yourself a few more minutes. Done the dirty deed a little bit sooner. I could have *come* for you. It would have all been over and you'd be a much happier soul than you are now."

"Hap-? What the fuck do you mean? I never saw you, at all, that night." Brian just wanted to be done with this day, the stupid ridiculous office party and for Hollis not to have keeled over during working hours. Where was a good, alive witness when you needed one?

"Of course you didn't, Brian. Someone got there before I could make it."

"Mikey..." Breathless from that one name, Brian turned the scene to his advantage. He'd gotten his neck out of the loop of silk material and had maneuvered himself into looking directly at the unfamiliar face. Then he did something he recalled doing when someone tried to overcome him, without asking properly. He bit the hand that tried to choke him.

The man stepped back, yelping in fright. He was cautious, unsure if Brian wouldn't do more than only bite. "Ow-ch! What are you... FIVE?!" He shook the injured hand as if it smarted.

Brian put out a palm to ward off any attacks toward his person. "So... let me try and get this straight. If I put two and two together... i.e. you were to be there the night I *scarfed*..."

"Hung yourself from the loft rafters, would be much more what happened." The man continued to rub his sore hand.

Brian intently stared the handsome stranger down to let him finish his story. "Anyway... and you, apparently, were supposed to be here when Hollis croaked..."

"Committed suicide. It's okay to say the words, Brian. You know you've come close plenty of times. What? Is he like your *guardian angel* or something?"

"You mean Michael?" Brian’s brow furrowed as he tried to catch his next breath.

"No. Princess Charming." The man moved to head back to Hollis' chair. "Who else would I be talking about that's been by your side every single moment of your young adult life?"

Brian's eyes widened in shock. "You've been there every single time? Watching?"

The man shook Hollis' limp form out of the chair, as if sudden death didn‘t phase him. The limp body toppled to the floor, like a wilting flower. "Waiting... would be the term I'd use." He retook the empty chair, rolling around as if there wasn't a body in his way. Kicking the still form would be too cold, even for him. He’d wait until Brian’s back was turned.

"Waiting? For what?"

Folding his hands on the desktop, the man stared at Brian with an intensity. "For you to finally get it right? You know how employers can be. Don't follow through on the promise... Falling short with the client. Well, we just make a bad impression all the way around."

"I'm not sure I'm understanding your point." Brian shook his head, wiping a wayward hand over his face. "I must be dreaming. This has all been some crazy, fucked up nightmare and I'm simply unable to wake up." He snapped his fingers. "I know!! I'm back from Babylon, coming off of a hit of E... some bad blend of herbs from `Nita."

The man crinkled his brow. "You haven't lived in Pittsburgh for more than six months. Nope, I'm sorry. This is your life. The one you've chosen to hide away from in the hopes that you can have some lame excuse to exit... stage right." He turned his head slightly, finding something peculiar. "By the way, how is Anita? I haven't gotten a client from her in a very long time?"

Brian had to laugh out loud. "I might have the holiday blues, but I don't think I'm that close to..." He was going to mention suicide, but Hollis' body was still visible. "Look... all this morality crap is kinda making my dick soft. Is there some reason why you haven't left yet? Why we haven't made anyone aware of Hollis' passing?"

Chin in his hand, the man pointed toward the door. "Because HE’s not ready yet.” He never made it known “who” HE was, but it was a clear given. “We have rules and regulations at our place of business, as well. Formalities to follow and paperwork to fill out. It's all pretty technical when you think about. People don't die as easily anymore. We can't just have any old person run amuck of their own free will."

Brian snickered. "Run amuck? Seriously... I'm gonna have to leave you and go back to my office." He turned back to grip the door handle, which still remained locked.

"Not... just ... yet... Brian." The man spoke slowly, methodical about keeping an eye on Brian’s every move.

"AH-CHOO!!" A distant sneeze disturbed the stilted silence.

Brian cleared his throat. "G’Bless you." He turned back to face the stranger. He leaned against the door paneling.

"Thank you." A disembodied voice said in reply.

Brian noticed that the man's lips didn't move once to say those words.

In the next second or two, Hollis' once frozen body began to move, creaking and crispy from an unintentional stillness for hours. He moved as if waking from a long, Rip Van Winkle sleep.

Brian's hazel eyes widened in complete horror. "Oh, shit!" He mumbled as he plastered his back against the door. "This isn't happening! This isn't happening!" He squeezed his eyes shut, tightly, wishing this catastrophe away. No wonder Dorothy wanted to go home when it was all over. Oz had been a complete hellish nightmare compared to her home life.

What in the hell was going on tonight? Some kind of end of the year, holiday freak show?

Hollis uncurled his body from the carpet he'd been laying on for a few minutes. "Oh, man!" He twisted his neck around. "Crick in my neck." He put up a hand to rub at the sore muscles. Unfortunately it was the one with the gun still clutched in his grip. He clunked himself in the head. “Ow-ch!“ He tried to shake the gun out. The metal was sticking to his skin.

The man didn't miss a beat in reply, never looking down at Hollis. "Yeah, unfortunately the ricochet from a bullet to the head will do that to you. Rest assured, you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. You nicked your skull, Lieberman Instead, you actually gave yourself a fuckin' heart attack." He shook his head. "Thanks a bunch. Do you know how much paperwork that will entail now?" He was treating Hollis as if he was disgusted with him.

A promise never kept. A vow broken. What were handshakes worth if no one bothered to follow their own words?

"I'm sorry. I forgot about my heart condition. I haven't had any problems since I was a kid."

The man swiveled the chair to face Hollis this time. "It would have been nice if you had mentioned it. We could have worked out a *clause* to get out of this mess you‘ve put us in." He rested in the chair, staring down Hollis on the floor at his feet. "You reneged on your agreement, Lieberman You canceled your own contract."

"So what's gonna happen? Do I have to directly to Hell, instead of Heaven?" Hollis kept trying to release the gun. As if he couldn't bear to look at the revolver any longer.

"You're lucky my Boss is so forgiving. He's allowing you entrance, but there's one more stipulation."

Hollis' eyes turned in hopefulness to the stranger. "What? What do I have to do?"

"You're smarter than I thought, Lieberman You've played me right into your hand. I never would have thought it was in you." The man rubbed his hands together. "But you still broke our contract. And you and I both know how that makes things surface in a bad light. Not only on your reputation, but my job performance."

Hollis voice began to warble a bit. "As long as my chances for Heaven have increased, I'll do anything."

The man glanced at Brian, a small grin passing over his lips. "An exchange of sorts. A trade. One soul for another."

Hollis peeked his head over the desktop. "Oh... hey, Brian. I didn't see you." He nervously got up to wipe his sweaty palm on his suit pants. His empty hand went to smooth down his mussed, salt-n-pepper hair. "I, uh... how's the party going? Everyone happy and excited? You made sure all the Christmas bonuses were passed out?"

Brian moved his fingers down the paneling of the door to secretly try the handle again. No luck!! "I wouldn't know, Hollis. I've been in my office most of the evening."

"You called that escort service I recommended, right?" Hollis placed the gun hand on the desk, while cupping his other hand on his hip.

The man crossed his legs, enjoying the moment for awhile. "Brian's a little perturbed about being stood up. He had an entirely different version for a *stiffie* tonight."

Brian bit his top lip. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Hollis had clearly been dead a few short minutes ago. Now the old man was standing, red-rimmed hole in his temple and talking as if there wasn't a bullet lodged in his skull. Plus, he didn't quite understand Hollis' change in attitude.

Dead, Nice Boss was scarier than Dead, Cantankerous Boss.

Hollis began to think hard about what was going on. How strange this whole scenario might seem to Brian. "I'm sorry, Brian." He hoped the simple apology worked. He didn't know how else to make this up to his new employee and partner of seven months. "Does he really have to be here?" He tried to whisper to the young man at his side.

The man pushed out of the chair. "HE is what's gonna get you into Heaven, Lieberman"

Hollis frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

The man walked over to Brian, placed a hand of presumed friendship on his shoulder. "Don't you know how often your partner has *walked the thin line*, as well? You two are perfect partners. Well... not anymore, of course... Because of you being dead and all. You both had a lot more in common than just your sexualities." He placed hands in his pockets to calmly assess the situation he was now in. “Brian is also better at the suicide portion, knowing how far to go to scare himself back into living again.”

Hollis bit his lip, his eyes wide in acceptance. "You knew, Brian? All this time... you knew? You never said one word." He wasn’t bothered by the teasing tone of trying to end his life and failing miserably. He was more interested in the fact that Brian had always known WHAT he was.

Brian cleared his throat, staring down at the tips of his shiny shoes. "As long as you're not fuckn' me, what business is it of mine to ask. Unless you weren't comfortable around me. You had no problem hiring me, so why should I make waves when they're not needed? Your private life was yours to live, however perverted you liked it to be."

Hollis raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, kid. That's really sweet of you.” His smirk was lost on what he was about to do to Brian. “I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better."

A loud buzzer echoed through the chilly air.

Brian and Hollis looked around the room.

Hollis stepped back in scared anticipation, afraid he‘d set off some time bomb. "What's that?"

"There's IS spot for you, Lieberman… you lucky S.O.B." The man crossed his hands in front of him. "It's your final boarding call, so to speak."

"To Heaven?" The tears began to cloud Hollis’ eyes in fear of the unknown.

"That's up to Brian." The man swept a motion toward the person in question.

Hollis turned his eyes toward his young partner. "I know you've probably thought what a shit I've been to you... and to most whom I've employed. I know what an ass I was. Hell, I thought it was a good idea to end it all before something larger came and took me. I'm such a coward for not wanting to suffer." He shrugged his shoulders. "But most of all, beyond everything up until this point... I regret not having the balls to stand up for what I wanted. I had dreams in my youth and they surely didn't revolve around this fancy lifestyle of money and power. I didn't mean to be alone, living this selfish existence up in my high tower of perfection. If I thought back hard enough, I think I could pinpoint the exact time when things went wrong for me. When I gave up, gave in and became something I'm not quite proud of. I pushed everyone I loved away." He picked up his hands to circle the room. His large office of spacious beauty. "You see what The End has brought me to. No one to see me off. No one to love. No one to care whether I live or die. Is that what you want, Brian?"

Somehow, through tricks of fate, when Brian had closed his eyes and reopened them, Hollis was standing in front of him. "Hol, look..."

Hollis grabbed Brian's biceps and shook him slightly. "You know what to do, Brian. I wouldn't have hired you if I wasn't sure you could sell crappy, man-made products to the naive American consumers of today's fickle world." His empty hand reached up to cup the nape of Brian's neck. "You're a good kid, Brian. Though you’re little misguided at times, you’re strong willed and determined to fight for what’s right… when you‘re willing to let yourself succumb to your innermost fears. I'd have been proud to call you my *son*."

Brian could see the intensity coming from Hollis' clear blue eyes. He believed him, without a shred of doubt. Somehow he knew what Hollis was trying to tell him. Brian was a good salesman. His pitch meetings rivaled every top executive. But most importantly, Brian knew how to swindle a deal. How to work a contract with a client to his own advantage, which generally would help out the business in the long run, as well. He gently put some distance between Hollis and him.

"Go." Brian easily let out on one long breath. He knew what he had to do to make it through this night.

That single word motivated Hollis to smile and pick up his pace. "Okay, so... uh, how do I get there?" He’d turned to face the young man with His Life in his hands.

The man gestured to a chair sitting by the wall of windows. "By all means, have a seat. It’s gonna be awhile. They'll come for you soon enough. There are several other pick ups and drop offs before your departure. You have eternity behind you, don‘t squander it all now."

Hollis swallowed with some difficulty. "So, now all I do is wait? For how long?"

"Nothing but time, Hollis. You got what you wanted. You're dead. Why complain now?"

"I'm not complaining. I just... I don't do well simply sitting still. I get bored very easily."

The man shook his head. He didn't have to please this client anymore. Hollis Lieberman was not his problem to deal with. They‘d properly deal with him when he showed up at The Gates. "Sorry. I can't help you there. You know where all your stuff is.” He directed Hollis to partake of anything left in the office. “Just because you're dead doesn't mean you've gone blind and lazy. Entertain yourself." He clamped a hand on Brian's back. "Brian and I have some negotiating to discuss."

The office doors finally came unlocked. A rush of warmth entered the room that suddenly heated Brian’s cheeks, like standing too close to a burning fire. Heh… nice metaphor.

Brian didn't like being dragged along behind the man. "Last time I checked, my legs worked fine. I can walk on my own." He tore his forearm out of the tight grasp.

"Nothing on you. I need to get this over with. The holiday rush will be coming soon."

"WHAT exactly are you?" Brian tried to stop in his steps, willing to refuse to move any further if he didn’t get the answers he liked.

"The *what* is irrelevant. Now the *who*... is slightly more interesting." The man's phone beeped. "Shit!" He stopped in the hallway toward Brian's office. "What now?!" He screamed at the phone extension. "Fuck!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay! Alright! Fine!" He closed the connection. "We have to wait right here."

Brian crinkled his brow in wonder. What happened to negotiating a *contract*? He can't be off to Hell this quickly. "For what?" Didn’t he get any chance at redemption?

"For whom." The man cleared his throat. "My replacement."

Brian couldn't help but chuckle. "Uh-Oh, you've already pissed someone off, haven‘t you? Why am I not surprised?"

The man leered at Brian from his peripheral vision. "Don't jump for joy too quickly. There's a chance they could send you someone much worse than me."

If he knew one, Brian would have danced an Irish jig. Jack had taught him once, but instead it was more like he kicked his feet all crazy-like, flew threw the air and landed on his drunk ass. "Somehow... I don't think that's possible." He felt chipper… and that was creepy considering how his night was going.

 **~~TBC...**   



	2. Chapter 2

The now “demon-feeling“ man looked pissed off. "There's no need to be cruel." 

"Then there's no need for you to squeeze the blood from my arm." Brian tried to yank his arm free, again, when he was moved out of the way of innocent party-goers looking for a private space to shag.

They’d come off the elevators Brian and the man were standing near. Saying random “HI/BYEs” to one of their bosses and his… cute guy-friend… in their drunken euphoria to reach some kind of holiday high. A blissful contentment to remind them of their need to be close to someone tonight, of all nights. Even if it was a one night stand with a complete stranger.

"Oh, sorry." Brian’s arm was let go of, kind of roughly. "Sometimes I don't know my own strength." The man wiped at the cloth of Brian's nice tux. He actually gave it a “once-over” in acceptance. Nice taste in clothes, sad to see this fashion diva sink into oblivion. Not many souls like his existed much anymore. Shame to lose him, really.

Just then the elevator binged, again. Another man, similarly gorgeous like his first counterpart, but dark brown-hair was replaced for the pitch black of the first man. They could have been twins, maybe in the Ultra-Evil Other Life. The second man’s skin shone lightly tanned as he stepped out into the dimmer lights of the hallway, his murky green eyes swept about the area. He was carrying a soft, leather bound clipboard. "This Brian Kinney?" His sharp eyes darted between the two men.

"Yeah... I'm Brian Kinney." Brian waited for the introduction, but got none. He turned to say something to the other darker version, but no one was there.

The pass off was given. The elevator doors were shutting.

How in the Hel…?

The Man In Black had left the building. Now… it was The Man In Brown.

Brian looked over at the fresh young face gazing directly at him. There was something very familiar about the features. Brian couldn't place it this early. "Do you have a name?" He’d try to figure everything out later.

"Is that important for you during this process?" The pen flew over the papers, filling out boxes and jotting down notes.

"Not really. I'm thinking this is a pretty big step in Life, seems kind of sad that you don't call each other something other than *Hey You!*. Don't any of you have names? Or were you all orphans with tyrannical parents?"

"You can call me..." There was deep thought in the response. "... Michael." The smirk was… sinister.

"No." Brian shook his head, emphatically. That would bring shame to Michael’s name.

"Gus?"

"Nope." Brian laughed while he declined. Did this guy like to be punched in the face?

"Ted."

"Uh-uh." Brian sighed. Now the guy was truly reaching to annoy him.

"Emmett."

"No way." Brian thought the idea was too comical in itself.

"Ben."

"Not on your life." Brian wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of that kind of torture.

"Justin."

"Not in a million years." Again… with the annoying thing.

The deep sea-green eyes zeroed in on Brian's face. "Is there a name YOU would like to give me… of your own choosing?” The man’s own frustration was showing.

"Damian." Brian blurted out with no thought to why he said it. Must have been stuck in his head since he’d bumped into the guy’s darker twin

"Cute." A snicker fell out, but the grim face and the studious, concentrated attitude was back.

"Blame Hollywood. They've given you folks a bad name."

"Okay!… *Damian* it is! Can we go now?" Damian went one direction different from Brian.

Brian was walking toward his office. "My office is this way."

Damian clutched the clipboard to his chest, as if the object was a lifeline. "But your boardroom is over here. Where all your negotiations and contracts..."

"I know what the boardroom is used for. I thought since..." Brian couldn't even use the Man In Black as a reference since he didn't know his name. This Man I Brown wasn’t very nice or kind.

"Yeah, well, HE does things his own way, which is probably why he lost the client. I see this more of a business venture, then a game, Mr. Kinney. Anything is possible, anything is cause for debate and everything is negotiable, to a point. Not even the most solid agreements pass muster." Damian wandered toward the double glass doors. He left one open for Brian to walk through.

Funny, Brian couldn't hear the sounds of the party going on downstairs anymore. As annoying as the actual party would be, he kind of found the noises soothing. Telling him that he wasn't alone on Christmas. He found it extremely odd, and foolish, that he even noticed missing the sounds.

Damian had taken one of the head chairs. He set his leather clipboard down, opening up the item to the contents. It looked like a stack of papers for a file on someone. He pulled out some sheets to set them around him, while digging into some of the inner pockets of the clipboard to pull out a blank compact disc.

Brian normally took one of the chairs off to the side, preferably to Hollis' left so he could gauge the client's expressions. This time, though, Brian was happy enough to sit back in the middle of the long table. Far enough away from Damian and what he could do him.

The trust wasn't there to begin with, even with the first shockingly nicer, darker man. There was a slim chance trust could form if Brian was able to swindle the deal Hollis believed he could win for his own soul.

Whew! Making a deal with the Devil sure was a lot harder than anyone had thought it would be.

Brian crossed his legs, watching Damian work around the board room like an old pro. There's was too much silence in the room. "How long have you been working...?" He didn't know how it would sound to say "For Hell... or For the Devil". Who was he to judge? So he just dropped the last part of his sentence.

"Almost twenty years."

Brian wanted to say that Damian didn't look old enough to have been evil and dead that long, but thought better of it. Not nice to piss off the Devil's employee.

Damian had walked up to the front of the boardroom. There was a hidden wall unit that held a large wide screen, Plasma television with all the attachments of an expensive, high state-of the art entertainment center. "I suppose it's too late to mention that I can hear your thoughts."

Shit!! "Shit!!" Brian covered his face in shame. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry I'm used to it. I've got thicker skin than it appears." Damian placed the disc in the DVD player. He paced backwards from the television. He pulled out two VR (Virtual Reality) goggles. He kept one for himself, then began to hold out the pair for Brian.

"What? Have they made my life into a movie already? Oh, I know... they've made it into a video game where I dodged the slings and arrows of all my enemies, while getting my ass kicked by my father and having to pick my mother's drunk ass up off the ground. And Claire... does she *whine* throughout this whole thing like in real life? Pushing blame on everyone else but who's really at fault?" Brian rubbed his palms together. "This will be so much fun!!"

“They said you’d be amusing, but not to what extent.“ Damian slid Brian's goggles across the table top. "Play along with me, Mr. Kinney. I might work out the deal in your favor if you behave accordingly."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Brian mumbled as he placed the VR goggles on his face as if he were donning a pair of expensive Ray Ban sunglasses. "How exactly does this work...?"

Brian had spoken too soon as Damian pressed *Play* on the DVD player.

Truthfully, in hindsight, it felt more like a “virtual dream”. One that Brian could move around in freely. Without any entanglements tying him to one area, with the ability to be “invisible” to everyone’s eyes. He was an observer to his own mind, so to speak… as silly as that sounded.

*********************************

The room was huge, devoid of any color, neutral.

Brian noticed he was without his VR goggles. He was still dressed in his tux, though.

Damian was in a similar situation. No goggles, too, but no tuxedo. Hi suit looked quite expensive and comparable to one of Brian’s many designs.

They stood in front of three doors, existing in mid-air, not connected to any wall. Their shapes blended into the bland background.

"Where are we?" Brian let his head move every which way he could see, every nook-n-cranny.

Damian crossed his arms behind his back. "MY boardroom. I'm supposed to make you a deal. Remember?"

"I get it. You're part of the clean-up crew. That other guy fucked it up, so they brought you in to make sure someone's soul got taken tonight." Brian almost sounded proud he’d figured everything out so quickly.

Damian wasn't hearing any of Brian's bullshit. "I'm doing my job, Mr. Kinney."

"Brian."

"I'd prefer `Mr. Kinney'."

Brian put up his hands in defeat. "I'm cool with that, as long as you find a way to keep my soul intact and ME, alive."

"Are you?" Damian asked out of curiosity.

"Am I what?"

"Alive?"

Brian wrinkled his brow in wonder. "What kind of question is that?"

"I always thought the whole point of being *alive* was to be full of life. You don't appear to be full of anything. Well, you’ve always been full of… uh, something, but, actually, you look like you're missing one thing."

Just in case, Brian glanced down to make sure he had every limb and body part intact. "Someone." Brian corrected in a huffy tone.

"Excuse me?" Damian could barely hear the word.

"You're making me miss my *date*."

"Oh, no, he's not coming."

"Of course he's not, `cause he’s not with me." Brian placed his tongue, literally, in his cheek. "I would have made him come all night long."

Damian rolled his eyes. "I meant he's not going to show up. He's... momentarily, lost for the duration."

"The Devil made him do it?" These jabs were way too easy. Did the guy even know how to return a good sarcastic remark?

Damian stared blankly at Brian, not cracking even a lowly grin. "Are you done?"

"Sorry." Brian made a show of flourishing his arm for Damian to take back the *floor*.

"This... is your deal. It is now eleven forty-five, fifteen minutes until Christmas Day at the stroke of midnight. In that time frame, you will have ways in which to prove to me that your soul deserves to remain here... in the secular world. If by midnight, I have found your proof lacking... or your life completely and utterly miserable... that you have not found one way to be happy... the contract is binding. Your Life is ours to do with as we please. Prove to me you're the most ecstatic man in the world... and I will null and void the verbal contract. Probably send you on your merry way." Damian wasn’t happy over that last statement.

"That's it? That's all I get? Fifteen minutes?"

"In my field of expertise, and in my world... fifteen minutes can be an eternity." Damian looked at Brian under his dark eyelashes. "What do you see before you?"

Brian snickered as he looked ahead of him. "Is this a trick question?"

“Let me explain something very clear to you, Mr. Kinney. Your Life is pretty much in our hands, as of ten minutes ago. However you feel like dealing with this situation is fine by me, but I have to get down to business and make this right. You’ve tried to take your life often enough for us to realize… your soul is pretty much up for grabs. I don’t know how you’ve been missed for this long… maybe someone “down there” likes you. Lucky for us we found you when Hollis Lieberman reneged on his long-standing contract with our company. We’ve been there to get you once the deed was complete, but each time you came back. I don’t know how, by some froo-frooey miracle or something. You’ve even come back stronger than before. Yet… you still feel… lonely, useless and a bit like you don’t belong here or anywhere. Make light of this all you want, I’m here to do my job and help you move on, whatever you decided. The choice is, and has always been, yours to make.”

Nice speech, Brian thought to himself.

“Thank you.” Damian remarked out of the blue, but was all business in no time flat.

“Forgive me. You people waited long enough to make me aware I wasn’t doing such a good job at exterminating my life… it’s all a blur right now. I’m only trying to get through this with my body and soul intact. No foolin’. I meant no disrespect” Brian couldn’t even believe these words flew out of his mouth. Why was he apologizing?

Damian cleared his throat, realizing that this was going to be a long night. "Tell me you see three doors." If he had to lead Brian through this conversation by the fuckin' hand... he was going to.

"I see three doors." Brian stated clearly.

"Good... because they aren't."

Brian squinted his eyes, wondering what kind of idiot they thought he was. "So... it was a trick question?"

"No... you just don't have any imagination left inside you."

Brian thought that was an awful blunt, crass assumption to make. "So... Damian, I'm intrigued now. What exactly am I looking at?" He could have sworn they looked like doors. Then again he was bargaining with a Devil's Associate for his soul on Christmas Eve... anything was possible.

Damian turned to the side to face Brian. "We all have had moments in our lives where we had choices to make. Decisions that shaped the outcome of our lives." He stretched out his arm to show Brian where he should direct his eyes. "You had three of those moments."

"Could I have gotten more if I had tried hard enough?" Brian looked at the three drab doors in sadness. If popularity were doors, where Damian was from, Brian wanted the walls lined with them.

Damian shook his head. "Mr. Kinney... you don't want more than two or else you'll go mad and insane."

"Right now... that doesn't sound like a bad idea." Brian contemplated his three paltry doors. "So is three a bad number or... should I be thankful?"

"That's up to you."

"Great! Now I know I'm halfway on the road to Hell." Brian never liked philosophical questions about life and the world. A fuckin' barrage of *What if?* ponderables... instead of straight, easy answers. "So... what do I do? Just pick one?"

"Yes."

"They aren't numbered."

"And I'm not Monty Hall." Damian was getting a bit on edge with Brian’s attitude. No one had told him the job would be this hard. He though it would be smooth sailing, with all the attempts on ending Brian’s life so soon.

Brian rolled his eyes at the sarcastic humor. "And I'm not on ‘Let's Make a Deal‘? Hmm... I think I made my own pun-y joke, but you're not laughing."

"I don't find my job funny in the least."

"Look, I didn't say your job was *funny*. I was trying to lighten the mood."

"Would it be rude of me to ask you to skip that part and pick a door?" Damian rubbed a sore spot on his forehead, where an ache was beginning. It’d been nearly a hundred years since his last headache. He wasn’t even sure if he’d brought some painkillers with him.

Brian contemplated the doors again, unsure of what he'd actually find behind them. "Is one worse than the others?” For some reason he was feeling a heady rush to his head. Like the cheap, watery champagne was hitting him. “Oh... wait, I know... it's Christmas time. Yada, Yada, Yada. I`m feeling melancholy and low. Oooo… Ghost of Christmas Past… Blah, Blah, Blah. I just found out my business partner committed suicide and NOW... Ghost of Christmas Present… My life is a mess and in shambles… oh, agony, why am I still alive… Ghost of Christmas future… do-de-do. La la la… wake-up… send beggar boy to get turkey and off I am to eat large feast with Gay Gimpy Tiny Timmy… Am I getting’ this correct? I'm in my own version of It's Wonderful Christmas Carol."

Damian wished he had a pint of something he could drown in. "Whatever gets you to pick a door, Mr. Kinney."

"Well, I hate to tell you this, I maybe a Scrooge, but I ain't no Jimmy Stewart."

"Of course you aren't. He crossed over with me years ago."

Brian's grin disappeared. "You're fuckin' joking with me, aren't you? Jimmy went straight to Heaven."

"If you like living in your version of the real world, please go ahead."

"Damian... I'm starting not to like you." Brian shook his head in mock disgust.

Damian crossed his hands behind his back. He was using a stance he’d seen a few military generals give to their armies. But somehow… one man wasn‘t enough to get his attention. "I can stand here forever, if that's what you want. Still won't change the inevitable."

"Which is?"

"To find a way out of here, you must choose a door."

“A NOT-A-door.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Yes… the NOTdoor.”

Brian sighed heavily. "Two."

"Okay..." Damian walked over toward the prospective door, ready to grab the handle.

"No, wait... One..." Brian scratched at his hairline. He wished he had an audience of contestants behind him encouraging him to choose the right “moment”.

Damian paused, pretty sure Brian would change his mind again. "Are you done?"

"No... uh, explain to me what is EXACTLY behind each door, again. Besides that moment in my life where I had a cataclysmic decision to make. What will happen once I choose and walk through?"

Damian realized that Brian was serious. "Each door represent past, present and future, like you surmised with your loose Christmas Carol reference. Each moment inside the door was a dilemma you faced at one point in time. There were other choices to make, but you went with what you thought was the best answer at that time."

"Since I know the outcome already of all my life choices... I get to revisit these moments and remake a particular decision? Which does what?"

"Causes a ripple effect in your journey. You change the outcome in the other two doors, depending on what you've chosen first."

"Can I come back to my first door and redo it, if I know I've made a mistake?"

"There's another possibility." Damian raised a curious eyebrow, wondering why he even told Brian this truth.

"What?"

"Let it happen the same way it truly happened and don't change a thing."

"And have myself end up EXACTLY where I am now?! That's fucked up! You get no deal for my soul if that crap happens."

"You have no control over that. Making these choices, about your choices, means you have to suffer the consequences. Two-fold."

"Does that mean I won't see Michael?" Brian hated pouting, but it seemed fitting for the moody occasion.

Damian's eyes perked up. "Why do you ask?" He'd been wondering when *Michael* would pop up in their conversations.

"Well, if I'm picking doors that represent my past, present and future, I would assume most of my choices revolved around him. This is mainly because he‘s been made my world since… well, since forever.” Brian’s head hurt to think this through, in all honesty. “If I happen to pick the door for the past... and it has the moment I met Michael. Say I choose in that door to NOT see him, do I NOT see him in the other two doors?"

Damian nodded his head slowly. "Ripple Effect. Michael no longer exists for you. You're getting the hang of this door thing." He felt like patting Brian’s shoulder, but didn’t.

"And if I chose NOT to change anything? Just pick the same choice I made almost seventeen years ago?"

"Sure, if that happens to be the exact moment behind the door you choose. But  
I must warn you, what‘s behind the door might be something you're not expecting. And even if you do make the same choice, or not, that you did all those years ago, there's no guarantee the outcome will remain the same. You‘ve messed with and tested fate. She‘s not happy when you take over her job."

"Okay... now, you're really being nasty." Brian faced the NOTdoors again. "Alright. Here goes nothing."

Damian stood between all three floating doorways, waiting for Brian to make his choice.

"Two." Brian went with his gut instinct. First choice. Whim or not… it would be his decision to fuck up.

"Good pick." Damian turned around to open the door wide.

"How do you know?" Brian furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I don't.” Damian shrugged, in nonchalance. He was simply glad to be getting this moment underway. “It's something I'm paid to say."

"Oh... that's refreshing." Brian tentatively stepped closer.

Damian held out a hand for Brian to take. "Come with me."

"Do you mind if we don't hold hands? It’s not a *gay* thing. I can walk by my-...." Brian felt like he was catapulted, or methodically pushed, down an empty elevator shaft to end up firmly standing on his own two feet. When he glanced up, he semi-recognized his surroundings.

They looked all too familiar.

**~~TBC...**   



	3. Chapter 3

"Damian... where are we?" 

"November, 17th 1988." The disembodied voice echoed through the walls. No Damian in the room. Spooky.

Brian closed his eyes and exhaled. What a relief! He and Michael had been friends for a few years, by now. They were pretty solid. "No... I mean... I know this room. I think I've been in this room before, but I can't quite... place..."

Damian came through the wall, holding his leather bound clipboard. He snapped his fingers... the lights slowly came up.

For only a second, a tall, lanky young kid stood beside a twin bed, frozen in his packing of a lone duffel bag.

"Just sit back and watch." Damian pushed Brian over to lean on the vacant wall behind them. As he snapped his fingers again, the world they were standing in the middle of started up again, as if someone cranked the motor.

Brian watched the kid quickly move from the dresser to the duffel bag, stuffing everything he could handle inside.

**********************************  
 **  
A weak series of knocks sounded on the door to the room.**

 **"Brian?" The clanging of ice in a glass sounded muffled and distant.**

 **"Go A-Way!" The young teenager Brian screamed in the direction of the door. Dried tears marred his flushed cheeks. His clothes were soaked with moisture as if he'd been sent out in the rain for longer than necessary.**

 **"Brian..." The handle was being turned and jiggled. "Come on, honey. Let me in."**

 **Letting out a long, tortured breath, Brian paced to his bedroom door. He leaned weakly on the paneling. His hand trying to feel, to sense, the person on the other side. "Mom... please... just leave me alone. I'll be alright." He wanted to sound comforting, but there was too much pent-up anger and frustration still surfacing. He kept wiping at the water trickling from his bangs to his face. A few pieces of stale, dirty garbage still covering his head and body.**

 **"Brian..." The doorknob kept turning. "I won't leave this spot until you talk to me. Your father left. He's not here. I don't think he'll be back until tomorrow night. Said somethin' `bout goin' fishin' with some buddies from the Union."**

 **"Good. Then you can have some free time on your own. Go see Great Aunt Mabel or your goddaughter in Harrisburg. It's not right for you to carve out a life only for HIM." Brian knew his words were falling on deaf ears. She’d become too settled in her own misery to know right from wrong anymore.**

 **There was silence. Then some scratching on the wood. "Brian... you know he didn't mean..."**

 **Brian yanked open the door, nearly toppling his mother, Joan Kinney, to the floor. He didn't know she was using the door to hold herself up. She grabbed onto the doorjamb, almost sloshing her drink on the nice wall-to-wall carpeting. "Okay! You've seen me. Can you please leave me in peace, now?!"**

 **Joan's hand reached out to touch her son's bruised eye and upper cheek bone. She discovered some soggy newspaper clippings stuck to Brian’s t-shirt, she tenderly peeled them off. She used to be shocked by the violence, but soon grew accustomed to the battery done to Brian's beautiful face. "Brian, I'm sure..." She flinched when he dodged her sloppy touch. Where had her sweet baby boy gone?**

 **"Save the apologies for somebody who gives a shit! `Sides... it's not for you to make excuses for HIM."**

 **"Your father..." Joan slurred her words together, but her blurred vision zeroed in on the duffel bag laying open on the mattress. The bag was an old military army issue of Jack's that had seen better days. Some personal items of Brian's had already been thrown inside. She pushed her way in, slightly wobbly on her slippered feet. "W'as goin' on? What are you...? Where...?"**

 **Brian had enough respect still lodged inside of his heart to keep his mother steady on her feet. At least until he could sit her in his desk chair. "For once, Mom... I'm doing what I've been told." He marched back to the closet, randomly pulling down clothes off the hangers.**

 **"He doesn't mean it, Brian."**

 **Brian simply continued to pack his clothes, not caring how neatly they weren't folded. The only thing he knew was... he had to get out while Jack was away. "Well, I'm not stickin' around to get the shit beaten out of me twice." He took a plain black t-shirt into the bathroom to change into. “I think I got all the garbage bags he meant for me to bring out, but I can’t promise I got every single one. Tell him I’m sorry… ’kay.” He’d meant that sarcastically, not caring where his father wanted the trash taken out to. He was changing out of one shirt into a dry one, the wet one having been dirtied by the chores he was forced to do at ten o'clock at night, in the light drizzle of the late evening rain shower.**

 **Joan watched Brian cross his arms to reach down for the hem of his soaked, dirty shirt. She had to cover her eyes from the further battery displayed on Brian's innocent body.**

 **The rest of the bruises, red and discoloring, were slowly surfacing. Some plainly older than the newer shiny ones.**

 **Brian was having the damnedest time undressing. It was a little bit painful to move some muscles, but he managed as best he could by controlling his tolerance with deep breathing.**

**********************************  
**********************************

Damian could sense Brian's discomfort, so he *Paused* the scene, dimming the lights back down. Even with the job he had to do, he found himself a bit disturbed by the view of a young Brian Kinney’s suffering. He had a moment of déjà vu, like he’d known this boy somewhere, somehow. But he wiped it from his memory. He tried to come back to where he was at the moment.

Hell on Earth? Was it even possible?

"Is there some reason why we're here?" Brian couldn't bear to look at the cruelty done to his young body. He'd already been through it once. "I can't recall a detrimental, life-changing choice at this very moment."

"This was the first time Jack's beatings ever got this bad. Where you wanted to take him up on his offer of leaving the house, possibly leaving town. You had vowed one day when you had enough money you would run away. Leave Pittsburgh behind you."

"I came damn close." Brian strangled out a chuckle.

"Instead, you discovered how wrong that would be. To be alone, on your own, struggling to survive."

"I would have made it." The puff of Brian’s chest was weak and he stopped it quickly. Ego be damned.

"By the skin of your teeth. But then... meeting Michael changed all that. Having him in your life was, like, a ray of hope… in a hopeless world."

"All my fuckin' bravado flew out the window." Brian snickered at the memory of how excitable Michael had gotten whenever leaving The Pitts was mentioned and the thought of running away together was brought forth. It was always going to be more of an adventure than a life changing event. Brian never had the heart to tell Michael any differently.

"Someone liked you despite everything wrong about you. Could only see the good through all the darkness." Damian nodded his head, finally understanding the draw between the two men. Reading their files only gave him half the story.

"Someone as pathetic and misguided as I had once been. He understood me like nobody else." Brian stared off in the distance, as if he could picture those moments in his mind.

"He still does, even though you've been pretty shitty to him, lately."

Brian cleared his throat, trying to look away in shame. "We've both moved on. Me... in my career... and he... with his happy, domesticated life in Idaho."

"Oregon." Damian corrected with the roll of his eyes. “Portland, to be exact.”

"Whatever. And... tell me how this is relevant to help make a deal for my soul?"

"To make you remember and never forget. You'd like to think that what you're living now is the worst that it's been. I guess you've managed to have selective memories."

"What? That I didn't have a wonderful life? That my childhood was fucked up and tragic? News flash!!” Brian made wide *jazz hands* beside his head. “I got that message loud and clear."

"All the money and power in the world can never buy you enough to blanket what you are on the inside."

"Thank you... ZenMaster Damian." Brian put his palms together and bowed in front of the solemn man. Did this guy ever smile, without an evil ploy behind it?

Damian ignored the intrusive thought. "Get pissed all you want. You still have a choice to make."

"I seem to have forgotten what my choices were in this situation." Brian gestured to the scene they were witnessing.

"Then, by all means, let's tune back in."

Damian snapped his fingers again... the lights came back up and bodies began to move...

*********************************

 **"Brian..." Joan called out.**

 **"What?" Brian came out of the bathroom wearing the black T-shirt. He'd grabbed a toothbrush and paste.**

 **"Don't go." Joan tried to stand with her drink in her hand. When it sloshed again, she placed it down on the desk, on some of Brian's textbooks from school with handmade paper trash bag book covers. A wet, dirty ring of scotch imprinted on the brown surface. "Stay. I don't know what I'd do..." She sniffled, wiping at her slobbering tears on her face, smearing her make-up. "I don't know what you're  
father will be like when he returns. I'm not sure I could make enough excuses for him to leave the issue alone." She raised her watery eyes toward her son. "Just don't leave me... alone... with him..."**

 *************************************  
********************************* 

Damian paused the scene again. "Do you recall anything now?"

Brian crossed his arms over his chest, deeply in thought. "Yeah... I think I ended up staying home. I had wanted to go to Michael's, but my mom was a pretty good talker. Lay enough guilt on me to make me rethink my plans. I called Michael to tell him I couldn't come over to spend the weekend with him."

"What happened?" Damian didn’t like admitting he was more interested than he should have been. He couldn’t shake that he’d possibly known Brian even further back than being in the present job he had.

"Mom and I had a nice quiet weekend, but I had to go to church on Sunday... really early. I felt like shit. I’d had such an adrenaline rush of leaving… I had no idea what kind of damaged had actually been done to me. Then Jack came back... and nothing seemed to change. And I..." Brian bowed his head, as if recalling all the nastier bits of those days.

"What?"

"I missed Michael.” Brian sobered, wiping a tired hand over his face. The palm moved to rub the back of his nape. “I found out I hurt his feelings by changing my mind. He didn't tell me anything at school on Monday. I was given the cold shoulder for almost a week. He was making all these big plans for us... and I burst his bubble. The first in a long line of bubbles bursting."

"So don't burst it this time." Damian shrugged, not seeing the big deal in making that different choice.

"It's that easy?" Brian stood back, a little, unsure that his choice could be that simple.

"Would I have told it to you if it wasn't?"

"How do I go about making the younger me choose differently?" Brian stared intently at the younger version of himself, ready to approach if that’s all he had to do.

"Tell me that's what you want. And I'll make it happen." Damian put up his hands in total agreement to a final decision, once it was made.

"How can I trust you to make it all better?" Brian talked to Damian, but never once dodge his eyes off Young Brian. Had he really looked THAT pathetic? No wonder he and Michael were a twosome. Frick and Frack. Peas in a Pod.

"I warned you... we can't control the ripple effect that happens in your Life... until we go through the last two doors." Damian wasn’t even listening to Brian’s inner thoughts now. He was only interested in ending this soon.

"What if this was wrong? What if I wasn't supposed to change a thing?" Brian’s old bouts with self-doubting his decisions surfaced.

"That's the risk you're gonna have to take in order to make it through."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"Nothing ever is anymore.” Damian sighed, wondering if he’d have to listen to another change of Brian’s mind. The guy was a complicated human being, the soul wasn’t any better. “Are you changing your mind?"

Brian inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled out on a long pause. "No... tell *me* to go, this time."

"To Michael?" Damian wanted to be assured this was what was being chosen.

"Uh... wasn't that what we were just talking about?" Brian got a tad pissy.

"No need to get emotional. I was only making sure." Damian snapped his fingers and the scene rewound and began to *Play* again...

This time with a different ending they both would never know about until Brian's second choice of the last remaining NOTdoors.

**********************************

 **Joan raised her watery eyes toward her son. "Just don't leave me... alone... with him..."**

 **Brian contemplated his response. "Mom... I can't protect you anymore. I think I've taken enough shit, for you and Claire, for much too long. I need to walk away... or I'll go fuckin' crazy!"**

 **"Language, young man!" Joan snapped, perturbed by how intelligent her beautiful son was. She wasn't ready to let him go. Why did Jack always find ways to screw with her heart, even when he wasn’t around?**

 **Brian walked over to Joan, knelt at her feet. "I'll go to church on Sunday and say a few rosaries for my soul... light a candle or two... hit the confession stand..."**

 **Joan lightly chuckled at her son's teasing of her religious faith. She reached out to clamp her hand on his bony shoulder. She saw him wince from the pain of simple touch, then decided to change her grip. "Promise me... promise me you'll take care of yourself." Brian allowed her to motherly caress to his un-marred cheek. She watched him close his long brown lashes and nearly sink into her rare gentle touch. "I don't know what I'd do if..."**

 **It never took Brian long to find every word out of Joan's mouth as hypocritical. He pushed off of his knees to walk back over to his packing duties. "I promise." He tried to sniffle away his new tears, wishing that he had a different mother... a different father... No sister. Hell, a fuckin' different life.**

 **Joan decided to let the moment go once Brian became adamant about leaving the house. "Then... just don't go too far. And call... You know, when you want to come back. I'll try and cover for you as best I can." She knew Brian was only blowing off steam, just like Jack did. And just like Jack, Brian always returned into her life, never letting her down. She picked up her half empty glass, desiring more  
liquid inside.**

 **Brian let Joan walk all the way back to the door, watched her open the paneling, nearly making it halfway out into the hall... before he decided to speak up. "I'm going to stay at the Novotny's... you know, if you care. Or should you need me... for anything." He wiped his sweating palms on the front of his moist jeans.**

 **One never knew how Jack would react if he came home to find Brian missing, unable to do chores around his house.**

 **Joan nodded her head, turning on her feet, surprisingly steady. "This is your little friend? From school, right? Dark hair and dark eyes? Always smiling, laughing?"**

 **Brian hadn't expected Joan to sound so nice when she asked about Michael. "Yes. That's the one." His grin was almost truth telling to how the boy made him feel. Glowing, from the inside.**

 **"Oh." Joan paused, nodding her head. Her eyes were getting droopy. "I like him. He seems good for you."**

 **"I like him, too. And he's very good for me." Brian bit his lip to get his mouth to clam up. Too much yammering about Michael would get him in trouble. He was already watching Joan slink down the hallway to her bedroom, using the wall as her crutch. He was about ready to run and help her, but it was becoming his forte to try not to lend a helping hand to the rest of his family.**

 **When had they ever needed him? Except to ward off his father from advancing on them. These days, when Jack got angry, Brian was the only one who got the brunt of his feelings.**

 **Brian could never find where his sister and mother went in times like those. In all honesty, he didn't care... he was on his way to stay with Michael.**

 **That was reason enough to shut up.**

*********************************  
*********************************

Brian and Damian were back in the white room with the three NOTdoors.

Although one was sealed off. Barricaded as if having been picked already. All that was left was NOTdoor One and Three.

Damian looked over at Brian, waiting for his answer.

Brian raised a curious dark eyebrow, unsure himself which one he'd choose this time around.

The time was only eleven-fifty. Ten minutes until midnight.

Ten minutes until Brian could prove to Damian that he was as happy as a Kinney could be on Christmas Eve.

Ten minutes more to save his very soul...

“Which one?” Damian inquired, lifting a quizzical eyebrow.

“Logical choice would be Three.” Brian had only meant since he’d chosen the Second NOTdoor earlier.

“So...” Damian paused, itching to reach for the knob.

“I’m feeling a little dangerous.” Brian wiggled his eyebrows in anticipation of what could be in store for him if he went for NOTdoor One.

Damian headed for NOTdoor One.

“Three.” Brian chimed in.

Damian gave Brian an *evil* glare.

Brian put out his hands, shrugging. “Hey, if you really got to know me, you’d know how *dangerous* that decision was for me to make.”

“Are you sure?” Damian hesitated at the chosen door.

“Yes.” Brian nodded his head in tandem, then directed his head toward the NOTdoor Three. “Three.”

“Okay, then.” Damian stretched out his hand to open NOTdoor Three. He had expected to be able to escort Brian through, like the last time, but he was quickly sucked into a vacuumed vortex... and then the door slammed shut.

Brian stared in shock as he found himself all alone, to his own devices, in the empty white, wall-less room.

As quickly as Damian had disappeared... it looked like he took NOTdoor Three with him.

Brian approached the only NOTdoor left, reaching his hand out to turn the knob. The paneling only opened slightly, as if an object, or a person, was barring the way inside. The same forceful vacuum-like air tried to suck Brian through the thin slats of the open door. He was almost taken in, but felt a hand clamp over his shoulder, pulling him backwards with super non-human strength.

Brian could sense it had been Damian, but felt no need to praise a deviant demon who was only after his soul. To his way of thinking, he was owed a few *freedoms* and second chances, before they took him away. He backed away quickly when he saw a spark of electricity flash.

NOTdoor One was dimming, fading fast, as if circuits were shorting and the television screen was coming in and out of focus. Completely out of thin air, wooden planks appeared, being nailed across the doorway’s molding, crisscrossing every which way.

Someone, or something, didn’t want Brian to have access.

When next Brian blinked his lids to refocus, he found he was back. Back inside Lieberman & Associates boardroom. The VR goggles sitting on the table.

Damian was still at the head of the conference table, but now there were three new strangers sitting across from Brian, trying not to stare at him or show their individual frustrations.

A statuesque, well-proportioned blond woman in a rather fancy, sparkling metallic gown graced the first chair. Even her skin shimmered, much like her dress. She looked a little too formal for a boardroom. Brian felt a heavy *Cinderella at her ball* vibe, wanting desperately to check under the table to see if she was sporting any glass slippers. He decided not to joke about her taste in clothing since the more he glanced her way, the more she kept giving him sweet smiles of kindness. Like she knew what kind of shit Brian was in for, but couldn’t tell him. Her sympathetic facial expressions gave him a new way of looking at her. She was appearing almost fairy-like. He wasn’t gonna say specifically WHAT kind of fairy.

The man to her left was stout, had short salt-n-pepper hair and wore a midnight blue, pin-striped suit. There was a briefcase sitting on the table, opened to showcase the insides and few files strewn over the table top. He had been writing notes down on his legal notepad, every so often tapping the tip of his pen on the table, as a nervous habit. He pushed up his wire-rimmed frames, his steel gray eyes penetrating Brian’s cool features. He appeared like he could give a rat’s ass what happened. Truly the epitome of a heartless lawyer. Plus he didn’t look very happy being here... in the flesh. He, also, didn’t have a very good customer service friendly attitude toward anyone in the room. He looked none too pleased to be seated to the man on his right, either.

Somewhere down a chair or two sat a filthy, pot-belly man in boxers with clouds on the cloth in light blue air. His wife-beater had seen better days and barely reached the elastic hem of the underwear. Enough to see a skim of bare skin, but to also be quite revolted by the hidden view. His receding hairline could be considered a case of haphazard balding and his five o’clock shadow had gone way past midnight. He was rhythmically sipping at a can of low quality beer and munching on a huge bowl of cheesy puff balls.

“Glad you could make it, Bri.” The disgusting excuse for a… uhm, man… talked through a mass of orange mush, periodically licking his fingers of dayglo orange powder.

Brian cringed at the informal shortening of his name. Tasteless didn’t even explain his reason for closing his eyes in agony. “Who are…? What in the world-?” He looked for his anchor, who happened to be Damian, but saw the bewilderment on those usually sinister features.

Damian picked up a pen, clicking the tip in an ominous nervous twitch. “We seem to have hit a snag.” He sounded upset, with whom was the question to ask. What no one knew was he was battling his own mind to recognize the adult face of Brian Kinney compared to the child face of the same man. There was something so… familiar to him.

Brian squinted his eyes toward the, clearly, perturbed demon. “You’re trying to butter me up before you break it to me that I chose the wrong door, aren’t you?” He smoothed the front of his chest in calmness. He would try to attempt a cool, easy manner of dealing with a bad decision. “It’s alright. I’m a Big Boy. I can take the hit.”

“I can’t even find one loophole to place the blame on you for what’s happened.” Damian couldn’t even dare to look directly at Brian. For a demon… yeah, that’s pretty bad.

The prissy lawyer guy chose a moment to speak. “I am afraid, Mr. Kinney…” In all his years of business he had never found himself in this type of situation. And he had lived quite a few centuries. He yanked out a hefty legal document. “… uh, Damian, as he is known to you in this realm, and his employers have been in flagrant violation of Hadinal Penal Code 652.311, which stipulates…”

Brian notice the sudden frustration coming over Damian. He’d obviously ruined some diabolical plan beyond even his own calculating, evil control. What the Hell… heck had happened? He put out a hand before he heard too much legal mumbo-jumbo to keep pace with everyone at the table. “And… you would be…?”

“I’m Les… Lesley, your court appointed legal representative and pseudo-mediator for these proceedings.”

“Which are…?” Brian didn’t want names. He needed explanations for what was going on. What had happened to his Life since changing his decision behind NOTdoor Two?

Everybody around the table, excluding Brian, turned to glance at each other, unsure of how much they could reveal without putting lives in jeopardy.

Lesley cleared his throat, straightening his tie. “The… uh, Afterlife.”

“Heaven?” Brian clarified.

“Eh… not exactly.” Lesley held out his hand, making a *so-so* gesture. “We’re in the middle ground, if you want to be specific and literal. And not be questioning everything every five minutes.” He didn’t mean to sound so angry, but he knew this wasn’t going to be good when “Damian” and his flippant cousin were involved.

The Fairy Lady placed a gentle hand on Lesley’s forearm. “Les, honey… your blood pressure. Tone-er down some.” She tried to make him aware that he shouldn’t be so upset. They’d find a way to fix things.

“Sorry. My mind’s busy with other cases. I, uh… tend to mediate when the moment comes to choose. Being assured that all avenues taken are legal and bound under contract.”

“Choose?” Brian was sinking deeper into confusion.

“Lots of things.” Lesley didn’t know how much he should talk about to use as an example.

Brian felt like banging his head on the dark marble-top table. “Christ…” He mumbled under his breath, not realizing how quickly three pairs of eyes raised to the room’s ceiling. “Please, don’t get so technical. I won’t be able to keep up with all of you clever masterminds.”

“Well…” Lesley blinked once, settling his glasses higher on his nose. “… if you want to be realistic… Life over Death… Right over Wrong… This over That… Paper over Plastic…”

The Couch Potato Guy laughed out loud, nearly spewing beer through his nostrils. “More like… Heaven over Hell. Les, my man. ‘paper or plastic’? You…” His orange-tinged fingertip pointed to the man at his left. “… are a funny, funny man. Ever consider comedy as your next profession?”

Lesley rolled his eyes, trying to situate his chair further away from the man, though far away, still too close for comfort. “This is only a tiny portion of my job. It’s… not that easy to describe, in English.”

Brian steepled his hands, then threaded the fingers. His chin rested on the top. “Somehow I don’t think time is a factor here. Try and find some English words to make me understand.” Nobody spoke up and Lesley became even more mum than when he arrived. Brian felt maybe he’d crossed a line or hit an invisible wall he had to crawl over. “Look… this has all been fairly interesting and ate up a good portion of my boredom. I’ve enjoyed the mini-journey down memory lane. If you‘re going to pussyfoot around with me, I might as well head on back to my office. Get depressed by myself. It‘s Christmas after all… isn‘t it? Still?” He pushed his chair back, prepared to exit the room as easily as he’d gotten in. Damn, if he couldn’t see a door. Plenty of windows, but no doors. Hmmm….

Damian never got out of his seated position, but he was able to hold Brian in his place, not able to move one inch. “Something we very much unexpected has come up.”

Having pocketed his hands in his trousers, Brian took one out to sweep the air. “And I would care because…?”

Damian found he could bear staring intently at Brian this time, since he was willing to shoulder some of the blame for this major snafu. “It’s Michael, Brian.”

**************************

“What? What about Michael?” Brian was intrigued, slightly. He wanted to desperately exit this room and forget this had ever happened, but knowing something might be wrong with Michael gave him pause. Had things gone wonky for him back in Pittsburgh before Brian had left or while he’d been gone? He knew he didn’t keep posted of much, never keeping his promise to stay in touch with Michael nor Emmett and Ted. He was beyond their scope these days. Then he wondered if maybe something hadn’t drastically changed since his NEW-er decision in NOTdoor Two. He retook his seat, pushing himself back under the table. When Damian didn’t respond quick enough he began to look toward the other three.

Damian clicked his pen a few times before responding. “When you chose a different path, behind your door, not only did it affect you… it seeped into Michael’s life.” He fluttered his hand as if this was normal, up to this point. “But… there was something we were unaware of… A very important factor we didn‘t consider… until Lesley pointed it out to us.” He almost couldn’t admit it to himself what had occurred.

Brian really, really wished these people wouldn’t talk in circles so eloquently. They dealt in the afterlife, he figured this step was pretty cut-n-dried. “Yeah… and?”

Lesley was dumbfounded. That had sounded rather cold. He had thought Brian was completely innocent and clueless. The way he was speaking meant he knew… something. “So… you do know?” That would mean he’d drawn up those papers for no good reason. Had Brian meant for those things to happen to both of himself and Michael, as well?

“Know what?” Brian sighed, hating not being totally aware of what was happening to him and… Michael. Especially Michael since he wasn’t here to see, face-to-face.

“About Michael… and you. The connection. The inseparable bond.” Lesley took out a few more files so he could double check his information. “Actually the word used was… ah, indestructible bond. Sorry.”

“Our connection?” Brian didn’t know why that word made him feel chilled to the bone. Like he was somehow freakishly attached to Michael, beyond the scope of reality. “I know he and I have been close. Closer than most best friends. We’ve known one another since we were freshman in high school. Those years are bound to make us bond in ways most people would never understand.” He tried to catch the gazes of all those at the table, specifically landing on Damian to make sure he was speaking correctly to be understood. Or… how much he could understand from what he already knew.

The Fairy Lady reached out to grasp Lesley’s elbow, trying to shake him to be aware of what was visible on Brian’s features. “Oh, my word… he doesn’t know.” She gleefully swacked the biceps closest to her. “I knew he didn’t know. It wasn’t possible to be that cruel as a souled human.” She sucked in a perplexed breath. Her pale green eyes turning sympathetic as she realized the poor man had no idea what irrevocable damage he had done.

“Man, *I* could have told you that.” The couch potato guy spoke, slurping at the last drop of his beer. The can was crushed easily in his pudgy palm. He scratched himself, somewhere, under the table.

Brian heaved a big blast of air. He sat back, he was preparing for the worst of what had happened. “Well, not that this evening hasn’t already been a colossal fuckin’ mess of surrealness… but can one of you circus freaks be kind enough to clue me the fuck in?”

All three looked toward Damian, their ring leader. They wanted to know what he expected to accomplish first to start the ball rolling. His soft nod of approval told them they had control of the floor over him.

The Fairy Lady decided she would step in and speak for awhile. “I’m Glynnis.”

“The Good Witch?” Brian teased lightly, not assuming he’d be taken seriously.

“No. That’s my cousin, Glenda.” Glynnis responded with an extra cheerfulness that really shouldn’t be present in these kind of dire situations. Years of learning how to deal with the public gave her cause to always be on the positive, thinking happy, happy thoughts.

If Brian had a sledgehammer he’d have hit himself in the middle of his forehead. Instead, he felt his brain pinching, mostly likely to ooze slowly out his ear. Of course… how silly of him. “You look like every image I’ve had of the Tooth Fairy.” He didn’t mean to criticize, but he had to speak an honesty that plagued him in the worst way. There were too many secrets in this room already.

Glynnis’ dazzling white smile vanished as she discovered that her past always seemed to haunt her no matter how many times she changed jobs. “I’ve had that position since I was old enough to fly and *drive* this wand.” She picked up something that had been placed by her side all this time. It looked… mystical, yet, cumbersome. Her once straight shoulders slumped in misery, a life never appreciated. No give, but a lot of selfish taking. “It’s a thankless job. The pay isn‘t worth the aggravations I put up with. It isn‘t enough that I put quarters and dollar bills under their pillows… they seem to crave more. Bigger denominations and such. Ungrateful brats. Always something for nothing. So, I, uh… supplement my income by doing secretarial work and the occasional guardian angel temping, whenever they need me.”

Brian checked his ears for seepage, worrying that if he stood up now he’d fall over in a pile of spineless, mushy matter. He already felt like he wasn’t made of much more than the consistency of Jello. “Certainly. Why wouldn’t you?” Was he really having this conversation and interested in a word she had just said?

Lesley interjected as he fixed his chair. “Mr. Kinney, what exactly do you think was wrong with the choice you had originally made behind Door #2, all those years ago?”

Brian found it odd he actually comprehended what he was being asked. “I already knew I had hurt Michael’s feelings. I don’t…” He shook his head, wondering if he could really be as forthright and honest as he always was in his own mind. “I can’t stand to hurt him. So I guess I wanted to change that aspect. See what came of it.”

Lesley wasn’t clear on the “whys” of Brian’s newest decision. “You’ve become quite the Pro at it. Why change what’s always been normal in how you deal with him?”

Glynnis began to fall back into her happy zone. “Awww, isn’t that darling. You must really care about Michael. To change that tiny little thing in order to make him content with you.”

Brian fidgeted in his chair, glancing down at his clean bed of fingernails. “I do.”

“Bullshit!” The Couch Potato Guy belted out, almost following the word with a huge belch of gas relief.

Lesley put a hand over his eyes, feeling a burning sensation coarse through his pupils. Did he really have to be thisclose to that truly aggravating cesspool of revolting smells and disgusting mannerisms? “Alright… alright… Like Glyn said, no need to get all… grr… Barbarian. I know you have some say in this, Roger, but… can I ask you to please… close your robe…?” He made a motion to show how much was visible through the folds of material.

Brian’s interest was peeked. “Roger? Who are you… like… Michael’s Guardian Angel?” He laughed at his own crack of joke, but suddenly realized how still Roger had gone and how everyone else couldn’t look at him. “Hey… I didn’t…”

Roger pushed the bowl of half-eaten puffy cheese balls as if he couldn’t bear to eat anymore. “I don’t really know why I have to be here to talk to this pansy… “ “PANSY” meaning Brian. “… after what he’s done to my client and my crew. No to mention… I haven’t had work since…” He actually took a moment to look his body over. “Man, I can’t even recall the last time I went out. It‘s like the kid don‘t need me no more.” He shook his head, sadly, burying his face in a hand. The non-dayglo orange one. “My poor, poor little mite… That kid’s gone off his rocker, ya’ know. I can’t get him to eat, he sleeps all day. I don’t think he’s been outside in… well, lemme just say…” Those bright blue eyes turned on Brian, whatever fire was left flashing brightly. “Whatever you did, you ass… undo it. I can’t stand watching him waste away like that any longer. It’s *killin’* me… and, hey, I’m DEAD!”

Damian sat up, now that Roger had finally burst the “bubble” of bad news. “Okay… enough. You’ve had your say.”

Roger mumbled something about not having enough time to say what he’d like to say to Brian Kinney.

Brian didn’t dare look directly at the sad, depressed-looking Guardian Angel. He was worried Roger might go all EVIL on him and shoot laser beams from his eyeballs. “Damian…” He put out his hands for a solid response. “What happened? And don’t hold anything back. I’m serious. I wanna know what’s happened to Michael.”

 **~~TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

Damian swung a hand toward Lesley who knew how to say things in the best way possible. Without putting the two companies involved at risk of being sued. 

Lesley nodded his head and took out the contract. “Uh… I’ve been made aware that you weren’t intentionally sought out for this, so… that’s good. But what they didn’t know was that the only reason you’ve been able to bounce back so often, during those times of strife… was because of Michael. Because of your connection. It can’t ever be severed… and yet,… it’s been severed. I suppose the loophole is if one of you chooses to cut the connection. Only thing is… I think it only works successfully if BOTH of you agree on the separation. Hence… this melodrama-rama.”

Brian held up a palm to make Lesley pause for a minute. “Wait. Hold on. I chose to BE with him that day. How can that…?”

“Oh, sweetie, it wasn’t the right time, you know. Things weren’t in place for you two to be together, yet.” Glynnis placed her wand on the table top, it clanked noisily. “Funny, how we think choosing the happier route will make everything else become just as happy or even better. What you never know is… sometimes that isn’t so. When you decided to go to Michael that night… it forever changed your destiny… or I should say, destinies.”

“Damn ripple effect.” Damian muttered shaking his head and near to pouting like a dejected child.

“But I chose right. Didn’t I? I chose Michael.” Brian looked over at Damian, noticing how he avoided eye contact. He hadn’t been told what choice was right or wrong, only that his choice was final and he had to suffer the consequences. HE was willing to suffer them, but knowing the “ripple effect” had taken a drastic turn in Michael’s own Life made him realize something he’d never thought before.

Had their bond been so deep, so inexplicable… that even when other people and… demons and spirits tried to intervene… things went seriously downhill?

Brian had been worried about not making the right choice, but had his original choice been right all along? Nothing needed changing? Brian sighed heavily, wiping a hand across his face. There went his self-doubt again. This time… causing catastrophic damage.

Glynnis looked to Roger, hoping for some help in making Brian understand what he’d done. “Sweetie, you know more about this than I do.” She saw Brian’s brow worry. “Oh… yeah, forgot. I’m your Temp Guardian Angel. Your real one had an unscheduled medical leave for undisclosed reasons.”

“Nut barn, is more like it.“ Roger guffawed, not able to believe how nice Glynnis was being to Brian. “Look, Kinney… in your new-er reality, you’re in jail. Prison. Ever watch Oz?”

Brian, to say the least, was speechless. “PRISON??!! What. The HELL??!!”

Roger clapped loudly. “Now… we’re talkin’!!” He liked the *anger* bits Brian was emitting.

Damian shook his head solemnly. “Roger, don’t gloat. It’s not a good look for you.” He threw his pen down. “Look, I’ve never experienced this before. All my other cases have been pretty easy to change. I… I never really thought it was possible to have…” He tried searching for the specific word he’d heard thrown around the boardroom, earlier. “What did you call it, Glynnis?”

“Soulmates.” Roger bumped into the conversation. “It says in all my paperwork… Brian Kinney is to be Michael Novotny‘s, as versa vice. Clear as day. Anything that mars the pathway… poo-poos the balance. Well… people, makes The Apocalypse look like a friggin’ tea party!” He stuck out his pudgy finger toward everyone in the room, but mainly Brian. “I don’t know why, but that boy… my boy… was made to love your emotionally exhaustive behind… and you keep muckin’ it up for you two. Why can’t you be simple-minded and sit still for once and… let it flow? Let the both of you come together? For once, think about him and not yourself.” He threw up a hand, at a complete loss. “And quit having pity parties for your sorry ass. So you had bad parents… led to bad childhood and led to bad adult decisions. Who hasn’t? Cry me a friggin’ river, Kinney! Look at Michael… the kid’s had his Ma practically super-glued to his spinal cord and still… do you see how much he loves her, takes care of her, how he’s there for her no matter what? Don’t you even know how to forgive and forget? How to love unconditionally? Sacrifice yourself for someone else’s contentment?”

Damian hadn’t meant to allow Roger the floor for so long. “I said enough!”

Roger put a hand to his chest to slow himself down from becoming too enraged. “Sorry, I’m just…” His strikingly sky blue eyes began to water. “… that boy is dear to me, like a son. He’s been such a good kid, all his life. His heart is so super-huge, big enough to fill this whole god-damn Earth… and there ain’t no one exists who can give him comfort other than… you…” He waved toward Brian. “Don’t rightly know why, but I ain’t here to question fate… so, so be it.”

Brian became somberly quiet, prepared to take whatever verbiage Roger wanted to vomit all over him. When he saw a lull point in the ranting, he cleared his throat. “How do we fix this? Is there even a way to fix this?”

Now, the real test could begin.

Everyone decided to pull their ideas and thoughts together.

Roger reluctantly joined in, once he found a shower and shaved off years of caked on scum and unwanted hair.

Damian joined in the conversation, every so often, but still fought for a twinge of knowledge in being able to know that he knew Brian in a different capacity. But, for now, they were working to help Michael. And Damian, though evil, wanted Brian’s soul fairly and taking another one along with his wasn’t in the contract. He was always by the book.

*********************************

It didn’t take long for Damian to receive a new DVD version of what had gone on with Brian and Michael’s lives.

Brian’s eyes grew wide to see that the collection had more discs than before. Shit! They must have really screwed things up. A minuscule dropping of a pebble in the middle of a pond and… the lasting effects causing more nightmarish obstacles they had to face. Alone, but always somehow knowing deep inside their consciences that they belonged together…

Damian gave Brian the option of viewing the DVDs himself or reading a written evaluation of the problems that stemmed from his decision to leave the Kinney house that night and leave The Pitts, forever, taking Michael with him.

Brian watched Damian slip the first DVD in the player, but he declined. He reached out a hand for the files of all the latest reports transcribed. He didn’t know if what he was going to learn would help or hurt him, but he had to do this in order to know how to save Michael.

Brian never saw Damian bring out his own file. It was thin, not much paper inside. A personal file that had been delivered to his office. He’d chosen to bring it with him, because it was too hard to believe. He… was or had been an important part of Brian’s life before meeting him tonight. The manner in which he knew Brian Kinney was… a fact he’d been forced to push back in his mind and forget, permanently. Only now… someone found it best he knew the Truth.

But this was Brian’s story… and Michael needed saving…  
 **  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

 **The silly, foolish joyride out of town, after leaving with Michael that particular night became the first crime Brian Kinney had been arrested for. Somehow, Jack and Joan had convinced Debbie Novotny that Brian had slipped into some kind of manic depression. Her son would never be safe in Brian’s hands. His teenager attempts at suicide read as heightened psychotic episodes. If he could hurt himself, then he would very well graduate to harming Michael in some way.**

 **Jack Kinney had been proven the best eyewitness to Brian’s wild nature. How uncontrollable he was at times and unstable for any type of normal relationship. It was the only way the father found a way to control his unruly son, if Brian wasn’t by his side. He’d make him pay… and pay… and pay.**

 **That night, and the weeks following, became the last moments Brian and Michael were ever together, able to stare into one another’s eyes. In and out of juvenile institutions, Brian tried his hardest to reach Michael. Sometimes his letters and phone calls got through, but once Debbie discovered what was happening… she’d pack them up and move them to another city.**

 **Michael had an unstable upbringing. He began to hate his mother, they fought constantly and their relationship became strained. He rarely saw his Uncle Vic because he didn’t stay long enough in one town for visitors. Michael was beyond shy, so introverted he refused to speak unless spoken directly to. His social skills didn’t develop properly because no one ever believed anything out of his mouth. The only thing that remained calm and overflowing in his dreadfully pathetic life was his love and belief in Brian.**

 **That one day Brian would come for him again, then they could be together forever.**

 **Brian had been the only “light” through Michael’s darkness and without it… as constantly as he could reach out and touch it… he succumbed to the loneliness and his own battle with self-loathing and depression. His only bright spots were those very times Brian managed to break out of jail or confinement to come find him. Or those times he called, making a pact to keep a secret of his decision to come visit Michael, wherever he was. But quickly… those moments would be squashed and both of them would be back to square one. Neither knowing where the other was, but still… a piece of themselves missing. Aching for days, weeks and even months on end.**

 **Years of being on the run and trying to survive on his own… Brian had thought he was free, finally. Of Jack, of his criminal past and onto a burgeoning future… until the day he found himself face-to-face with the very man who had made his life a living hell. He’d been ready to make a home and a life for him and Michael. He was ready to pick up Michael the day Jack Kinney returned to his son and changed his only child’s life forevermore.**

 **Attempted murder. Brian wasn’t sure exactly the chain of events that brought him into prison. To a life that claimed he was pure evil, as it had never been so in his head. He had no way of escape. Michael found their “home” and promised Brian he’d try to build a life on his own, without him or until he got out. The waiting was becoming too much for him. He tried, but it was nearing a breaking point and the letters, nor the calls and the tortured visits never were enough.**

 **Brian had been up for parole, but his own father showed up again… and Brian was back in his cage. The only thing keeping him sane and prepared for the fight of his life was the idea that Michael was safe. The “home” he had created for them was a shelter that could protect Michael when Brian couldn’t… and that one day they would be together and never apart.  
**   
**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ **

Brian looked up from the file folder, speechless.

Damian had been biting his thumbnail in anticipation of Brian finishing reading the entire report. “Yeah… I know… more than you expected, huh? I wasn’t lying, was I?” With what he knew about himself and Brian, he felt compelled to offer his services. To be of some help to Brian, making up for years of ignoring his pain.

“No.” Brian didn’t say anything else. He felt like flinging the file across the table, hoping it fell and papers scattered all over the floor. What he didn’t realize was that he actually did. He hated his Life, even more now… knowing he had blatantly abandoned any thought to what would come of his foolish choices, the second time around.

Damian almost missed Brian’s sarcastic responses and dialogue. “I wish…” He splayed his hands out to show that he had no idea how to fix this without someone else’s help. Not that his hands were tied, he simply had never thought something this terrible would ever happen. Sure put a lasting damper on his job.

Brian nodded his head, knowing what Damian was about to say, but the words didn’t need to be said. He closed his eyes, in deep thought, thinking back on what had gone on… any road he hadn’t taken… a different path that could get things back to rights. But nothing came, only the worry that Michael might take drastic measures to ensure their eventual togetherness.

Damian could sense Brian was trying to contemplate a multitude of tasks all at once. Dealing with the decision of his second choice, dealing with the outcome and figuring out a way to quickly repair all that had been broken. But the question became… how easy was the task to fix a broken man?

In the Original Reality, of the Past, where Brian had stayed with his mother, but emotionally stunted Michael into a familiar pattern of letting him down… Brian was the person who appeared harmed… incomplete. Lost, alone and with no idea where he belonged. But he and Michael were together, always. Bumpy, stilted painful road, yes, but things truly weren’t that awful.

In the Second Reality, of the Now, where Brian made a conscience choice to change his original decision, though he and Michael’s happiness was instantaneous, it was fleeting and tested at every turn. Their struggles almost became the only reasons they found to live, if not for the other existing. Sure Brian was being put through the ringer, more than before… shockingly he remained strong and assured of what he wanted and deserved. The drastic change came with Michael. He had switched places with Brian. Though he had precious time with Brian, they weren’t enough to last for him. Brian’s promises seemed unreachable. Of course, it was never Brian’s fault. He wasn’t around to see the truth. Michael couldn’t last very long without him.

In the Third Reality, of the possible Future, was where Brian had to follow next and the seriously funny thing about that was… Damian very much wanted to see what happened next.

Brian and Michael were both souls who felt misplaced and alone. They knew, right away, when they were together, who they were. Life came into focus. They were both scared and weak without the other by their side. Together they were at their strongest. But the most perplexing truth was… Michael was weaker than Brian. He would one day allow his Life to succumb under his own hands. Where Brian had always bounced back multiple times, Michael would perish on his first attempt.

Damian quickly shot out of his seat, kneeled on the floor. He’d forgotten how nicely he was dressed. He had to unbutton his suit jacket to bend properly and keep all seams intact. He was frantically gathering the scattered paperwork, placing them back accordingly in the file.

Brian had been watching for a few minutes. How silly to witness a demon running about with a heady rush of excitement. “What? What is it?” He swore he could see a tiny smile creep out on Damian’s lips. “Care to share your cool insight with the class, Damian?’

Damian puffed out a shock of air. That was the most exertion he’d ever put forth in decades. “Uh… I think…” He pulled up his chair to the conference table. “… now don’t go happy-happy joy-joy on me… I think maybe Roger had a point. He was right.”

“About what? Me being a ’pansy’?”

“No.” Damian was ruffling through stacks of papers when he answered. He paused to think. “No, take that back. Yes, but that’s not my point.”

“I am an ’ass’, I know this. Move on.”

Damian actually let out a rushed chuckle, a hint of noise. He liked the return of Brian’s teasing tone. “Well, yeah, that, too… Bigger Picture, Brian.” He used his hands to distract Brian and for him to know to listen closely. “I’m fairly certain there’s a way we can fix the entire thing.’

“How certain?” Damian had put them in this position in the first place. Brian didn’t know how well he should trust him.

“Never been more certain-er. Never. Ever.”

“Okay, spill. I’m willing to listen now.”

“I know you read one report, the main one describing everything…” Damian placed that stack aside. “But there were addendums added later after the first draft. Not much. More observational theories, character studies, but…” He flipped and turned sheet after sheet to find the exact one he was looking for. “There’s a hidden clause in both your contracts.”

“Hidden? Like never-gonna-find-the-clause hidden?”

“No. Like make-an-addendum-to-find-the-hidden-clause hidden.” Damian slid the exact paper he was describing toward Brian. “Legal jib-jab wavered… this plainly states if we’ve… my employers and me… infringed on your right to choose your destiny… Like not telling you the whole truth or, in your case, not realizing how important it is for you two to be together… if you find fault with that choice… for example, Michael’s peril at the moment… we can take it back.”

“Exactly what is the ‘what’ we take back?”

“The choice. Erased. Like it never happened. We…” Damian poked a finger between he and Brian. “… never met. And it’s binding, because we‘re in the third reality, the one of your future.”

“Not everyone has these hidden clauses, do they?”

Damian shook his head as he put the papers back in the file. “No. Only a select few. You and Michael are part of that select few.”

“Hmm… lucky us. So… when do we leave?” Brian noticed Damian not moving fast enough. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go get him.”

“Sorry. Not that easy. When you chose the third NOTdoor…” Damian snickered at how he was incorporating Brian’s language into his own. Reminded him of something pretty relevant, but he had time enough to explain. “… everything was incinerate into the vortex. There’s nothing left to go back to.”

“Then, how the hel-… heck are we supposed to find-?” A sudden thought came over Brian. “You still have those VR goggles?”

“Yeah, but like I said… there’s nothing in the barren white empty space.”

“Ahhh… ye of little faith and rain-er on my parade…” Brian stood to retrieve the two pairs of goggles where Damian pointed. “I know you’re supposed to be an evil-ish demon, but… show a little optimism. Keeps the blood pumping.” He handed a pair to Damian, while donning his to double check his memory. He pressed the *Play* button. “YUP!” The wide expanse of his smile was the only thing visible under the goggles. “I like being right.”

Damian watched as Brian had walked… more like Frankenstein-ed his way… over to the DVD player. He saw the hand reach out to cup his shoulder before he felt the touch. The palm shaped the thick shoulder bone. Damian didn’t know how to react to this… blatant show of awkward friendship. For him, it had been… too long.

**********************************

Brian was back in the White Room, watching his hand float off to the side. It hit something invisible in VR. He patted whatever was underneath, expensive linens of the suit tingled against his skin.

Ah, Damian… Good taste… Armani or Gucci?

Brian turned to look directly at NOTdoor One… still visible, but clearly blocked and boarded up from entry.

“There’s a door… and it’s mine.”

**********************************

Damian had to stop himself from becoming too cheerful, like Glynnis. His cool exterior was melting faster than he could handle. Not only was his mind remembering Brian but so was his body, emotions and feeling long buried.

“C’mon, Dame… least you can do is help put a ‘The End’ to this debacle.” Brian slapped the demon on his back, not fearing any repercussions. “What do you say?”

With an unhealthy flourish, Damian couldn’t put his VR goggles on fast enough. “I thought you’d never ask.”

*********************************

Brian watched the demon materialize right before his eyes, right where his hand was splayed in mid-slap. “You ready?”

Damian foolishly grinned toward Brian, a spark in his eye that had never shown before. “I was born ready.”

“Oh… that is so cliché.”

“And your dialogues are never… dated, I suppose, Mr. Originality?”

Brian had to let out a chuckle. He’d finally gotten Damian to play fairly. He wondered when the stick up his ass had vanished. He’d ask, but it was too late… Damian had read his thoughts. “Sorry. No offense.” He meant his apology this time.

“I wasn’t always this way. I was quite fun and joyful in my youth.” Damian knew Brian would never remember him. It had been a rule of his last career, before he had turned demon. The person protected, under his care, was to never be aware of his existence.

“Something tells me you’re not talking about the 1980s.”

“More like the 1380s.”

“Yikes! And here I sit bitching about growing old and keeping my youthful beauty.” Brian realized all either of them had to work with were their bare hands. “What I wouldn’t give for a handy crowbar.”

POOF!!

Brian had a crowbar. He glanced at his arm in shock. “Did you do that?”

Damian’s attention had been elsewhere. When he looked at Brian’s hand holding the menacing instrument of torture, he flew in to a defensive stance. “If I did, would I be doing this?” He calmly went back to composing himself. A few feet away from the sharp pointy object. “How did you…?” Not that he was curious or jealous, but he felt quite useless empty handed.

“Don’t really know. Kinda wished for one and…” Brian sighed as one crowbar replaced the first. “Damn… this could go on forever.”

“Wow. That’s… a useful gift.” Damian snuck by to pick up the crowbar Brian had dropped. “You know, technically, this is your property.”

“The crowbar? Thanks, but I got one of my own.” Brian held up his crowbar for inspection.

“No… the VR. This reality we’re about to get into… it’s your’s to play with as you want. YOUR future. The changes you make here are binding.”

“Me want Michael happy.” Brian beat on his chest, forgetting he had a crowbar. “But right this moment, he’s behind a door… and as you see…” He flourished a hand toward the NOTdoor. “It’s giving on a heavy vibe of DO NOT ENTER.”

“Or… The more PC… ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.”

“Nice one. Optimism. Good looking out, Damian. I’m so proud.” Brian wiped away a fake tear.

“Knew you would be.” Damian gave the NOTdoor a once over. “We can alternate those wooden slats. Go much faster.”

“Why don’t we each take one end of each slat and yank. Double the muscle power.” Brian flexed some pretty pathetic biceps.

“Sure if you feel like being all MAN-ly and exhaust yourself to death.”

“Hey, I am a MAN. Hello… gay!” Brian directed his index finger to his own chest.

“Demon…” Damian mimicked the move. “… and hey, dead, too.”

“Fine. You win.” Brian allowed Damian to be the first one to begin the task.

They worked tirelessly to break through the doorway’s wooden prison.

Damian noticed how quickly Brian reached out for the knob. “Whoa! Slow down. Remember the last time.”

Brian brought his hand back as if he’d touched fire. “Yeah, right… the Hoover vacuum vortex. Gotcha.” So Brian took his time. He listened carefully and slowly opened NOTdoor One.

Nothing.

Well… not no-thing. But certainly NO 60mph sucking wind tunnel. Nothing but a blue-shadowed blackness.

“This… is chipper.” Brian could sense Damian keeping pace behind him.

They both had their crowbars, just in case. The deeper they walked down the tunnel, the darker the air became.

“What I wouldn’t give for a…” Brian began but was rudely interrupted.

“A candle?” Damian spoke out a turn.

“No… Damian…” Brian got a candle, but he had no flame. He’d also had to drop his crowbar. “I was gonna say a torch…”

Brian didn’t see Damian drop his crowbar to catch the falling, flaming torch.

“… or a flashlight.”

With no hands to catch the flashlight, a noise sounded in the dark.

Brian shook his head, staring at the dull, unlit candle. “Who were you channeling? Agatha Christie? Who uses candles in this situation?” He turned in time to watch Damian try to balance the torch to pick the crowbar from where he’d dropped it. He realized what he’d said, seeing the torch and flashlight as proof. “Wait! If I got the flashlight… did I get batteries, too?” He moved about to find the flashlight in the dirt. No much use to have an unlit candle now.

Damian’s voice was quivering nervously. “This torch is really… really hot. Like touching the Sun. Can you wish things away?”

Brian was willing to answer, but he thought of something. “Damian?”

“What?”

“Got any of your demon-y powers here?”

“I guess, but they aren’t very helpful at the moment. We don’t really know where we are exactly, to know where we’re headed.”

“What about the snapping-your-fingers thing you did for me?”

Damian shrugged, tossing the torch from one hand to the other, the crowbar tucked under an armpit. “Don’t know if they’d work in these circumstances.”

“Won’t hurt to try.”

“Won’t hurt YOU to try… but yeah, I suppose I can.” Damian’s hands were still covered in oils from the torch. When he was able to chose a hand to use, he tried to find some clean dirt to “wash” in. “Give me a minute.”

“According to you… I have an eternity of minutes to offer.”

When Damian reappeared, sans suit jacket and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he moved to Brian’s side. He’d put the torch down somewhere and it lit the darkness up to a degree of visibility. He held up his thumb and middle fingers, prepared to “snap” into the next scene.

“Need anything from me.” Brian interjected, disturbing the silence.

“Yeah… silence.”

Brian mimed zipping his lips.

Damian snapped once. Nothing. “Hmm… my fingers must still have some oil…” He tried to dry them on his pants.

“Try again.”

Damian snapped a second time. A flicker, maybe. A split second of images, but lost. Nothing concrete.

When Damian snapped a third time he and Brian made it halfway through the passage, but the vision was hazy. They had no solid objects around them to grab onto, except one another. And both had agreed, in their minds, to not even go there. They fell back into the dusty, inky blue/black tunnel.

“This has never happened before. I must have been correct. I can’t use anything I have, because… well…”

“Go ahead. Say it.”

“Because, this time, I’m actually trying to help you, not bring you over to The Darker Side of Life.”

“Like Vader?”

“THAT DIVA! No way! That’s all kinds of other British Overlord Evil you don’t want to even know about. Nah, we’re… we’re kind of the alternative to darkness. Like… a Lighter Side of Darkness. Diet Darkness.” Damian found that last one pretty hilarious.

“See…” Brian waggled a finger at Damian, shaking his head in confusion. “This is where you circus freaks like screwing with me. Vader’s fictional. Made up in someone’s mind.”

“Is that so? You don’t think a similar persona could have been read about in history and the ‘creator’ of Vader just assimilated his own version of reality?”

“STAR WARS Theology? What the hel-… heck do you people do there for fun?”

“You wouldn’t want to know. Anyway, I think you’re wrong.”

“Yeah? Well, I mean, sure Vader’s a great ’recruiter’ for Evil Doing, but he’s not real.”

“Ahhhh, so sayith the man who stands in VR World, conjuring up objects out of the blue he can simply wish for.”

“Point taken. You know…” Brian gazed directly at Damian. “… witty sarcasm looks better on you.”

“Any kind of sarcasm gets me through a tense workday.”

Brian began to wonder. “If you said this VR was mine… well, then…” He reached out, grabbing Damian by his biceps and looked him dead in the eye. “… I wanted you to know that I would give anything to know where Michael… Novotny… is right this minute.”

Damian and Brian shared a sly smile, like they both knew that he had understood how to crack the code of this place.

Somehow, even without snapping his fingers, Damian knew this fourth time would work. The millisecond his fingertips touched, the rapidly changing screen flipped from blue-black to sun-setting glow in dusky shadows.

They were standing in the middle of someone’s front yard.

“Okay. This…” Brian glanced over what was in front of him. Clearly a low-income housing development of small family houses and mobile homes, single and double-wides. “… is definitely different.”

Damian heard a noise even before it made a sound. He could sense a frantic heartbeat, racing uncontrollably. The heart breaking at the same time. Odd. The fear permeated from somewhere around him. “Brian…” His gaze fell on a dilapidated Airstream trailer. The aluminum walls dent and bent. “Brian, look…”

Brian swiveled, facing the same direction as the quieted, solemn demon beside him.

There was an enormous picture window in the front, where the trailer hitch was located. The view inside was backlit by one solitary overhead light fixture. Two shapes danced in shadow. One, tall and muscular; the second, shorter and dainty. From a nonchalant eye, it looked like any ordinary married couple. But the distant, muffled voices came in and out of focus, like a radio frequency. Both tones were distinctly male.

“Is that-?” Brian asked feeling a chill come over him.

Damian lowered his head, close to Brian’s ear. “Michael. He’s in there. And he’s…”

The tall shadow drew back a huge object and backhanded the smaller shadow, throwing it out of view. The trailer shook with the force of the violence inflicted.

Brian was ready to run toward the trailer door. He’d known what that type of fear did to someone. Michael needed saving or the man in there with him would kill him… dead. Funny that even though he knew diddley-squat about THIS reality’s “Michael”, Brian’s born instinct was always there to protect. Then demolish the perpetrator of the harm.

A gentle hand on Brian’s chest prevented forward movement.

Damian only had to use one hand to stop Brian from advancing in unknown territory. Keep the situation from getting worse than it already was. “You’re better off letting Michael come out. Much safer for both of you.”

“How do you…?” Brian should have recalled Damian’s Super Demon Sixth Sense, but right now he was focusing on someone else.

“Trust me. What pissed the Big Oaf off was probably some measly task he forgot to do. More than likely, Michael was being told to finish it. And finish it, he will.”

Brian was quite impressed. “I really amp-ed up your demon powers, huh?”

“Breathe, Ego Boy.” Damian patted Brian’s puffed out chest. “It’s Michael. His emotions there… right there…” He held his hand out to show how level they were to his eyes. “… on the surface. They’re everywhere. He’s plagued with that perpetual heart on his sleeve, but this air…” For not having breath to breathe, he took a huge gulp of air. “… he’s even seeped into this trailer park.” He moved about on the rocky surface of the yard. “So much so…” He spotted the disappearing faces behind shutters and curtains. “… he’s made every single one of his neighbors afraid to speak out.”

Brian knew he couldn’t have asked for a better VR guide. “Is he coming out soon, ’cause I really want to rip that bastard a new asshole?”

“Give Michael time. He might be stuck here, in a neverending rut of physical abuse and gutter-level self-esteem, but he’s clever. He’s honed certain skills to take advantage of the night.” Even Damian was impressed by what sensations he was getting off of Michael’s aura, from his mind and thoughts.

“To do what?”

“Good question. Wish I knew the answer, I‘d tell you.”

They didn’t have much longer to wait.

The lights in the trailer dimmed. The heavy footfalls of the larger man creaked the foundation as he ventured toward the back. Possibly where the bedroom was.

Damian sensed a peaceful calm come over him as he shut his eyes. “He’s asleep.” He reopened his lids. “Thank God.” Man… how long had it been since he’d said that particular word?

“Michael?”

“The boyfriend.” Damian frowned. He hadn’t known this nugget of information.

Brian was perplexed, more than hurt. “Boyfriend?” He didn’t know why he looked at Damian for an easy answer. He was as clueless as Brian was.

“Maybe no one has come as far as we have. They’ve all been letdown so many times, unable to stomach watching the demise of both your lives. Who can blame them…” Damian was coming to the defense of the Guardian Angels he worked along side of. “… every time it got good… a spark of hope… it became worse than Hell.”

“Leaving Michael more alone than he could imagine.” Brian mumbled as he walked closer to the Airstream trailer. Things had become too quiet, the air thick with doom. He was nearing the lone doorway, where a tiny window was. He simply wanted to peek inside, make sure Michael was…

The aluminum door was thrown open in frustration. It almost clocked Brian in the chin. He reached out to catch it, his fingers pinched by the inner screen door falling on them.

**********************************

Michael carried a large plastic bowl, sloshing it’s contents of tonight’s dinner, and climbed down the three steps to cross the graveled front yard. He was on a mission of determination. He mumbled on his way, a destination point into a darker area of the trailer’s lot. His voice changed from high to low, as if having an articulate discussion with himself and one other person. He paused, sighed heavily and wiped a hand over his bleeding mouth. He cringed at the aches, knowing a bruise would appear later on tonight. Hard to hide from roaming eyes. He exhaled a delicate whisper of pain and fell. He resettled his body, calling out… under his breath and patting his dirtied jean-covered thighs.

The sound of metal chains clanking gave view to where Michael had ended up stopping. He put the bowl on the ground. Waited. Called out, again. A whimper, then a whine pierced the night air as whatever was hooked to the end of the metal chain slowly advanced toward Michael’s bent, hunched form.

**********************************

Brian felt like running to Michael and pulling him back, safely.

Michael didn’t seem to fear what was coming out of the dark.

A hefty, grotesquely deformed Rottweiler crawled to the sanctuary he found in the human before him. He didn’t eat immediately. Michael had to direct the snout to the bowl of warm, delicious food.

“Dear God, that thing is half-dead.” Brian could smell the fowl stench.

“That ‘thing’ saved Michael’s life.” Damian was reading Michael’s thoughts easily, like an open book. If he were willing to do his other work, this was a good soul to take back with him. “It’s why the dog looks like he’s been beaten beyond repair. Michael can‘t let it go. The dog is the only faithful companion he‘s kept. He knows it doesn‘t have long to live, so he‘ll make it as comfortable as possible.”

“If that trailer-trash fucker can do THAT to an animal… there’s no telling what he’s already done to Michael.”

“No more? No more.” Damian could hear the chant, inside Michael’s head, as clear as a bell. “I’ve known many evils, but… this has got to end.”

Brian slowly approached where Michael was kneeling. “I don’t even recognize him. He looks as if he needs the food more than the dog does.”

*********************************

Michael placed a tender kiss on the only patch of cleanliness between the dog’s ears. He really wanted to hold the poor soul close, but he knew what kind of pain the dog was suffering. No touching, for now. The hot food was the best “Thank You” for the moment. But how many moments did the dog have?

He sniffed, wiping a dirty, bloody palm under his nose. He didn’t try to disguise the tears any longer. No use. No one around to see. No one around to care.

No more.

Michael stood, or tried to, on steady feet, limping his way over to a tiny stretch of rope. It dangled from the trailer to a shed. Soggy clothes hung from wooden pins, some still dripping from the early afternoon downpour. They were mostly t-shirts and white boxers. None of the items were his. He weakly kicked over a plastic basket, slapping each soaked piece in the basket to be dried another day.

There was nothing left of HIS in this place.

The “home” that Brian has tried to build for them to live in together.

**~~TBC...**   



	5. Chapter 5

Damian felt like he’d been sucker punched. “All this time…” 

“Huh?” Brian was too transfixed to hear clearly.

“All this time. All these years.” Damian was walking toward Michael’s position, an arm’s length away. “He’s waited for you to come. He’s been good… or at least he’s tried. He’s been good… kind… even when it served him no purpose. He’s suffered for you, but…” He put a hand to his brow, a sharp pain burning. “Something’s off, Brian.”

“What?” Brian noticed Damian looking at Michael in the oddest way. As if he was trying to fight to get further into his soul. “Damian, c’mon… don’t leave me hanging.”

Damian almost couldn’t bear going deeper into Michael’s mind… it was too dark for him. “He’s done. Michael’s done. It’s over for him. He’s letting go. Soon. Finally… he says. He can’t take much more.”

“Damian, don’t wig out on me now. Stay focused. What-?”

Damian put out a hand for Brian to shut up. “Michael never once thought about… IT. Not like you. He always had something to live for in the distance. A light in his dark. He feels he no longer has that… you. He’s…” He didn’t know if he could actually say these words.

Brian didn’t need them. He knew. “Giving up. He’s giving in. Intentionally. He’s letting the sorrow drown him, take him under. He wants release.” He almost couldn’t breathe. He was attempting to glance at Michael as he spoke, tone growing softer and softer. “He’s preparing to kill himself, isn’t he?” He wasn’t expecting a response. How many times had Brian found himself in this very spot? And how many times had Michael been there to catch him before he fell or… enter his mind at the exact moment he needed him to? Why couldn’t Michael cope the same way? Even memories of Michael had sustained him plenty. But, really, Brian’s life had never been this bad. Brian was worse at being capable of coping with Life in the aftermath. “No!” He moved to kick the same basket Michael had moved until he realized Michael wasn’t there.

*********************************

Michael was standing further away, head tilted to the sky. His arms lifted up, begging for a forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve. For the grace would never come in time to save his torn and tattered soul.

The drops fell; fat, sloppy splotches morphing into tiny rivers.

Michael dropped to his knees, falling face forward. His cheek pressed to the moist rocks. He was feeling a salvation he’d never received in all the years he’d begged and pleaded for release.

“Brian… why…?” Michael muttered against the earth, closing his eyes tight to the pain rushing through his chest. “Why did you leave me…?’

Pale arms extended out in the bits of dirt, peeking between pebbles. Short nails embedded to dig shallow slats in the muddy texture. The beginnings of his shallow grave.

Michael… prayed… ached… yearned for Death to come. To him… take him… envelope him. Embrace him and let him rest in an awkward peace.

Anything… in any way… to bring him closer to Brian.

HIS God. HIS savior. His very Life’s next breath.

Gone. Snuffed. Dead. Nothing.

No more.

*******************************

Brian didn’t know how to react. He’d never seen Michael in this much pain, torturing himself. The core of his beaten soul exposed in darkness, most familiar light. He sat back, alert and watchful, always ready to comfort and protect. But now… he didn’t even know how to touch without breaking the very thing he wanted to save.

The tears in his eyes matching the thick droplets of rain. He felt like he was drowning in air. He had to swallow a few times before he could compose himself to move another muscle.

It felt like hours had passed before someone gently touched his shoulder.

Only Damian. Standing slightly to his side, behind him. He’d forgone watching Michael. The pain was too much in his head. He wanted to leave, but stayed because… he knew he’d never be witness to the aftermath of one of his clients.

Brian couldn’t keep up with the fight between the sky and his eyes. He let the wetness remain, hoping to scare Damian into motion. “This…” He stood, advancing toward Damian. He pointed to Michael’s bent form. “… this is your work! Your JOB!” He had no where to vent except to the person he was with. Michael had no idea he was even here. “You talk like this is a business. Contracts… negotiations… mediators. Sign on the fuckin’ dotted line, Mr. Sucker. Thanks for the scrum-delicious soul! How many, huh? How many of them do you reel in a day, Dame?! What’s one more poor, pathetic weepy schlep? He’s not worthy to exist anyway. Take him along with twenty others. Is that how you do it? Is it THAT random? How many does it truly take to fill the Boss’ quota?”

“It’s not like that, Brian.” Damian knew this would happen, just not when.

“Oh… then it’s all simply a game, isn’t it? Dangle enough superficial goodies and ’happily-ever-after’ promises and you have souls practically falling over your flaming threshold. Tell me, is this…” Brian forced Damian to look at a victim of his handiwork. “… what sings you to sleep at night, Dame? Torturing souls to the point of bedlam? Snatching them in the middle of the crisis of their Life to survive? Makes you proud, huh? See your handy work done so well?”

Damian pulled himself out of Brian’s grasp, stumbling on his feet. “I understand. I get this. I know this. Displaced anger, is all. I can take it.”

“I’m barely where I want to start!”

“Brian…” Damian wanted to make his plea, but he’d looked beyond Brian’s shoulder. He then began to try to make Brian aware he should turn around.

“I’m not listening to your lame, I-Am-Evil-Hear-Me-Roar excuses! You’re wrong. You’ve been wrong about this all along.”

“BRIAN!” Damian broke through Brian’s tirade, grabbing him and turning him by how own hands.

“What-?”

*******************************

Michael was rising from his half-prone position on the ground. His sobs had simmered, his body still quaked from buried emotions. He was enraged, now. He tried to lift his exhausted frame off the dirt and gravel.

He glanced down at the mess he made. Covered in mud, his blood and some of the dog’s and some of the soup he’d made for supper tonight. Growling low, a gut-wrenching cry for freedom, he tore at his worn, drenched t-shirt. He let the shreds of cotton hang off his emaciated body.

Michael properly rose to his feet, staring ahead. He heard sounds above the falling raindrops.

In a trance of sorts, he put one booted foot in front of the other, willing to walk until he could no longer hold his own body strength upright.

“No more.” He whispered this vow under his breath.

********************************

“Where’s he going?” Brian became momentarily distracted by Michael’s need to go on a night journey. There’s no telling where he was heading.

“Maybe you should follow.” Damian didn’t want to include himself in case Brian was still angry with him. He’d secretly follow Brian, but only for his own selfish reasons.

Brian and Damian forgot their fight, beginning to pursue Michael.

They watched him reach an embankment of grouped mailboxes.

*********************************

Reaching under one particular mailbox, Michael extracted a hidden piece of paper. He clutched the single sheet to his chest, pressing the words to his breast, soaking through to his broken heart.

*********************************

Neither Brian, nor Damian could decipher what the paper was. They remained as far back as they could, without Michael sensing something odd.

*********************************

Michael paused, swaying. In the rain, he carefully unfolded the letter he’d brought out of secret hiding. No one would know but him. “I promise.” He ran a hand over the contents of the letter. “I’m on my way. I’m coming for you, Brian. Will you be there to greet me?”

**********************************

“What’s he saying?” Brian hoped he hadn’t yelled enough to scare Damian from using his powers.

“Don’t know. Heard your name. Something concerning the letter.” Damian yanked on Brian’s forearm. “I need you to know something.”

“What?”

“Michael’s gone beyond my help. He’s given up. He’s not allowing me in…” Damian pressed a finger to his brow. “He’s blocked me. He’s in control now. I think… I think you’re the only one who can stop him.”

“Me?” Brian swallowed with some difficulty. He didn’t know if he trusted himself to do things right by Michael. He was the compassionate one.

“Or, at the very least, you can direct him to a safer place.”

“Where’s that?”

They noticed Michael picking up speed. They quickened their paces, cutting the distance shorter.

“Where’s he-? Why doesn’t he-?”

Damian heard the noise off in the distance. He paused, concentrating in that direction since Michael was lost to him. “Brian…”

“What? What’s wrong now?”

“Highway. I think it’s an Interstate. That’s where he’s heading. A 16-wheeler heading east bound… should be here… shortly…”

“What does that…?” Brian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You don’t think that how he’s planning on doing IT?”

“Apparently, Brian, in this reality… anything is becoming a reality.”

*********************************

Michael had gotten way ahead. He’d become chilled to the bone. Delirious. Calling out for people who were no longer there. Someone he specifically wanted to meet him on the roadway.

*********************************

The closer Brian came, the clearer the “someone” sounded like his own name.

Why would Michael be screaming for him to take him “home”? And where was this “home”?

Damian saw Michael no longer held the letter. He’d dropped it on the ground. Backtracking Michael’s faltered steps, the wet paper was spotted. The wind having picked it up and stuck it to a telephone pole. He ran to unstuck the sheet. Ink would have run and vanished; so thankfully this letter was typed. Officially. By The Department Of Corrections.

… we regret to inform you, Mr. Michael C. Novotny, that inmate 0925763 was deceased as of…

… two days before the date embossed on the letter sent to Michael. Below the salutation and the warden’s signature, an extra paragraph was hurriedly added. Simply telling Michael the “truth” hidden behind the official looking words. How his best friend had been killed, accidentally stabbed while trying to protect a fellow inmate. All a misunderstanding… Wasn’t supposed to happen…

Damian barely felt his legs move, but he was able to reach Brian’s side.

Brian had caught up with Michael, he was standing guard on the shoulder of the paved road. He witnessed Michael strolling up and down the yellow dotted centerline. He swayed, faltered, but never fell.

“Brian…” Damian had the letter, folded in his hand, ready to hand the offending paper over. Reading the content, but seeing the “deceased” seemed oddly surreal for him. Funny… surrealness was his entire existence.

“What?” Brian couldn’t stand watching Michael for too long, feeling useless that he wasn’t able to help. Hadn’t figured out one single way to help Michael out of the misery he was in. So many times Michael had done this for him… how the hel-… heck had he done this and stayed sane?

This was The Future. The Future for him and Michael. The End. Of Them.

Damian wouldn’t speak. He placed the letter in his trouser pocket. “Nothing.”

Brian tried to read Damian better, but couldn’t find what he was searching for. “Do it.”

“Do ‘what’ exactly?” Damian wrinkled his brow in bewilderment.

“Exchange our souls. Trade it all. You did it before. Or at least… your partner… your cousin. He took me for Hollis. This time… I’m handing it to you. ME… for HIM.”

“You want me to take your soul, instead of his?” Damian knew what he was being asked, he just didn’t feel like accepting. Not yet, not this way.

“Do whatever you need to. Make it work. Change it all.”

“What’s the offer?”

“What I’ve wanted all along.”

There was one serious glaring contest between the two Alpha males.

“I don’t know what you…?”

“You do. That’s what ‘red flagged’ my name in the first place, right? Your cousin knew, so I know you do, too.”

“I don’t think…” Damian was flustered. He understood that Brian was serious. He wasn’t clear on what the offer was exactly and unsure it was possible for not only one soul, but two… to feel such intense emotions. Both willing to die for the other.

“C’mon, Dame… you remember. What did I use to wish for? In my bed a night? Way before I met Michael? What was it again?” Brian spoke of other circumstances, but he almost made it seem like he and Damian had a long-standing history together.

Damian then knew exactly what Brian was offering. He couldn’t say the words out loud. “Never… being… born…” He felt his gut clench in worry and doubt.

“You got it. Good. Now… do it.”

“No.” Damian was set in his ways.

“You can’t refuse me. You told me this was mine. **MY** reality. **MY** future. I say what goes and… I GO!”

“What about Michael?”

“Failsafe. Nothing. I never existed. Problem solved. Those wishes were made BEFORE Michael… therefore… no loophole to jump through.”

“Brian…” Damian didn’t know why he was unwilling to take Brian’s offer. “… I don’t think you really put any thought in this.”

“Oh, believe me… I’ve been doing nothing BUT thinking since you met me. And it’s pretty simple, I think. If there’s no Brian Kinney, then Michael can pine for another ‘soul mate’.”

“Look, I would do this if I could, but I can’t.”

“Why not? I’m willing. I’m the best kind of customer to have.”

“I’m not sure it’s do-able.”

“The contract, again?”

“Yeah, a little. Plus, I don’t think it’s ethical.”

“To what extent?”

“ ’Cause… I don’t wanna an’ I’m not gonna.” Damian crossed his arms over his chest. It had really become that basic, no contract involvement at all.

“Really? That’s what I’ve brought you down to? Pouting? Now you choose to give back my soul? In exchange for what?”

“My conscience… and some peace of mind that there’s still a bit of good in me left.”

“You… are one complex Living Dead Demon.”

“Yeah, I find it difficult to meet the right woman.’

Damian had such a cool swagger about him, Brian couldn’t help laughing.

“Dame… please…”

“No.”

“I’ll beg… grovel. Whatever it takes.”

“No and, ah… no.”

“Fine, then you won’t mind if I take it myself in Michael’s place.” Brian walked away. He was pacing behind Michael, willing to dodge as many cars as possible. “Tell me when that 16-wheeler comes barreling down the road, there I will be.”

“Brian, wait!”

Thankfully, Brian did.

“I can’t… I can’t take your soul because… it’d be like… killing myself.”

“Awww… we’ve grown so close so quickly. Dame, I had no idea.”

“No… I can’t kill myself.”

“Good to know. But it’s MY soul to give.”

Damian knew he’d have to say this at one time or never repeat it again. “Wrong. It’s my soul, too.”

“Say again?” Brian was more than a little confused.

“I… kinda am you… I used to co-pilot your soul, in a very weird, yet fascinating way.” Damian had been told he could never see or tell his clients who and what he was to them. So he was trying to do that, but still saying something that meant something important.

“Explain. Please.”

“I would, but right now… there’s Michael to consider and… the 16-wheeler barreling down the freeway.” Damian bolted further ahead and as he approached Michael he began to keep an inch of a step behind him.

“Damian!? What are you-?”

Out of nowhere, the truck driver flashed his high beams. He was too close to stop on his brakes soon enough to not hit the man wandering in the middle of the road. He yanked on his horn, three times in a row. Maybe the guy was blind… or had some freaky Death Wish.

********************************

Michael, dazed and confused, put up a hand to ward off the bright light blinding him at the end of the tunnel. He heard nothing… saw nothing… felt nothing…

********************************

Brian watched in horrific fascination as Damian leaped high, entering Michael’s body like he was slipping on a glove. Both of them, as Michael, hunched over and went through the entire length of the truck, an image fainting in and out of focus.

The truck driver hit the brakes on the moment of impact. He was fairly sure he’d hit the man, but he hadn’t felt and difference in his driving train or his tire treads. A football field’s length beyond the impact he came to a dead stop. Shaken, 911 was pressed on his cell phone.

Brian didn’t know what or who he’d see splattered on the other side of the pavement, when the truck finally stopped. But he certainly never thought he’d find that person still standing.

Michael turned, flashing Brian a sheepish smile… “Damian” was coming through. “That… was cool!”

“Mich-… Dam-… what in THE hell…?”

“Don’t ask. Just… give me a minute. Head rush.” Michael/ Damian put a hand to his forehead. “Sorry…” Michael/ Damian shivered and cracked his neck. “… that was almost too easy. I couldn’t let you do this, Brian. Not this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I should’ve been there for you. Should’ve taken better care of you.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Here, wait… lemme do this right…” Michael was forced to bend over, Damian was left standing and he jumped backward.

Michael faltered, his eyes focusing on Brian, not a couple of feet away from him… ALIVE. “You? You’re…”

Brian smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You can see me?”

Michael put a fluttering hand to his chattering lips. “They told me you were dead.”

Brian took off his tux jacket, wrapping it around Michael. “What? And you… you almost became a tar pancake four seconds ago. Pick your battles!” Brian was almost ready to swat Michael upside the head like Debbie used to do to him, but this was a different “Michael” who was used to physical abuse… so, he just held him tighter to his frame. “And what do you mean I’m ‘dead’?”

“The prison… sent me a letter… it said…”

Brian glanced over at Damian who took out the “letter” and properly ripped it to shreds. “Nope. Sorry. Never happened.” He gazed down sweetly at this “Michael” wanting very much to kiss all his pain away. He wished he could feel those eager hands on his body, like HisMichael usually did, but knew of the reason for hesitation. Maybe it was worth the wait.

“Really?” Michael sounded more than relieved.

“Honest…” Brian brushed his nose tip to Michael’s. “… and true.”

Michael couldn’t prevent the lopsided smile from growing. He, literally, glowed from the inside. His next move was to lay his head on Brian’s chest, where he properly fainted into sleep.

“Are you happy, Brian?”

“What?”

“Is this what you want?”

“Yeah.” Brian’s shaking hand came out to pet Michael’s dirty coal black hair. He held the precious face to his heart. He didn’t realize how much he treasured this man until he was forced to face his own demons laying inside fighting against him.

“That’s all I needed to know.”

Brian wasn’t clear on exactly what Damian had done for him. Basically he’d demon-proofed Michael for ten seconds while the truck plowed through him. Had this marred Damian any? He looked fine… well, as demons go. “What did you mean… before… about my soul being yours, too?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it out one of these days. You’ll know, for like a split second, but then you’ll forget all about it again. He’ll be fine, by the way.. And so will you.”

Brian shook his head. “I don’t get this.” He could hear faint ticking. He thought it was his own heart in his ears… until he realized…

*********************************

Brian was back in the conference boardroom. VR goggles in his hand.

The only thing out of place was… he was still holding Michael. Arms of steel.

Damian swiveled his chair to look at Brian. “You never did. Good thing you always have Michael to tow you in line.” He straightened his tie. “Close your eyes.”

Brian glanced up at the first thing he could clearly see. The wall clock, about to strike midnight. “Wha-? Why?”

“Because it’s time to go back… and really make things right. If you’ll let me help you. Will you?”

“Maybe.” Brian felt a little bereft at losing this “Michael“, wanting his HisMichael to return to him. He assured Damian by shutting his eyes, telling of how badly he wanted things to turn back and become even better.

“Closing your eyes also makes the trip easier.”

“What tri-?” Brian passed out on top of Michael. They weakly leaned on one another, holding each other upright.

  
********************************* 

Damian smirked, having watched both men fall, becoming swallowed into the darkness below their feet. He felt… like someone was… well, that someone had been watching him all this time.  
 **  
(Fourth wall drops as Damian winked toward his “invisible” audience)**  
 **  
“Don’t worry. They’re fine. In safe hands. And… it’s not where you think, either. But your entitled. I completely understand. I found out something pretty interesting. Hell really isn’t all that bad, compared to what goes on right under your nose. All in the perspective. Doing the best with what you have. More than anything, being content where you are because of the choices you’ve made. I’m sure we’ve all got doubts, wondering if we choose wrong and right them when possible. The trick is… letting the past go, lay it to rest. Promise to better yourself for the present so your future is brighter than a thousand suns. I know, you think you’ve seen what I am, but isn’t that the kind of power we all have any way? Never knowing who each other was once upon a time ago? Demon or not, we’ve all had pasts to atone for, apologies to make. In the end, was it worth it? The aggravation? Did you fully satisfy the harmed individual? Probably not. The ability to look beyond all… this…**

 **(He swept his hands down his debonair style of dress or the fact the audience knows he‘s a “demon in disguise“)**   
**  
** _“… that is the true gift. The gift of pure, unconditional love…”_

**(He turned as if to exit)**

_“And besides, I’m not quite done with them yet. In fact… I’ve barely even gotten started…”_

**(Damian snapped once)**

** END SCENE **

**~~TBC...**   



	6. Chapter 6

When Brian reopened his eyes he found himself seated at a bar, sitting on a stool, milking a lukewarm beer and playing with his monogrammed lighter. Had he fallen asleep on the bar? 

His last memory vaguely entered his mind, but he felt misplaced. Like he’d been out of his body for too long and tried to get it to fit right. He’d lived another life… or lives… away from The Pitts… his childhood… the past… and the very essence of his existence. His reason for being. Somehow he knew without Michael there would be no Brian Kinney. Or… was it the other way around?

A powerful surge of emotions overtook him, making him glance over his shoulder. Further down the bar stood David Cameron, his back facing Brian. Facing The Doc… was Michael. A momentary lapse between reactions, the smile was growing strained, the motivation behind the small reaction was bittersweet.

Brian became disturbed, like if he looked long and hard enough… concentrated… he would hear the flow of Michael’s innermost thoughts. A fantasy he’d always wished for.

 **… Portland? David actually wants me to come live with him and be His Love in Portland. Is that in Washington? Or… no, Oregon. Isn’t there a Portland, Maine? But he’s never mentioned Maine… so I don‘t think… Yikes!! I haven’t even been anywhere outside of my own state. Do I need a passport? No, that’s for overseas. Dummy! Wow… look at him. He’s actually nervous. With me? Does he know who I am? Huh… I betcha he thinks I’m gonna refuse and say "no way Jose". He knows it, too. Look… it’s in the hesitation in his voice and how he keeps shuffling his feet and staring at the tips of his shoes. Oh, man, Ma’s gonna murder me for sure if I don’t take this… you know, Brian’s like that… pensive and innocent-looking when he wants something. But somehow it’s more adorable and charming on him. On David… well, it looks like he’s trying too hard. Forcing himself to play meek and mild-mannered. He’s hanging on my every breath. Probably hoping I’ll jump into his arms and ask him if he’ll ask me to marry him. Whoa! Slow Down, Skipper! Love you, but… you’re a bit high maintenance for me. Now, Someone like Brian… or hey, how about Just Brian… why even hide? Well… damn this is not good if all I’m thinking about is Brian when I’m having a really important conversation with David. I keep telling myself all we are is best friends. Through thick and thin. What Brian doesn’t know is… I’d drop anyone like a hot potato if only… If Only what, Novotny? If Only you looked like Brad Pitt? Well, honestly… if only he’d give me a smidgen of hope and tell me not to take David’s offer. All I need is one word… okay… maybe two… sometimes three… but…**

Brian had placed the cigarette in his mouth, prepared to light when he heard Michael’s last few jumbled words. He knew what had to be done. He pushed off the stool, making his way over toward the distracted couple having a very personal conversation. Like always, he slid himself, perfectly, in between Michael’s chest and David’s arm. He’d made sure to ruffle enough of David’s plumed feathers to let him know… in no way, was HE giving up without a fight.

“Brian…” David began, but realized how much he wasn’t important any longer.

“ ‘S’up Doc!” Brian leaned across the bar, turning his body to face Michael, alone. “Hey… shortcakes.” His eyes gazed down lovingly toward those sparkling brown ones.

Something flickered between them, like they’d hit rock bottom but come back from even the darkest corners.

Michael choked on the endearment. What the hell was-? “You okay?”

“Spiffy. Keen. Neato Supremo.”

Michael had to chuckle. This was so like Brian to disrupt privacy so eloquently. But he couldn’t help feeling as if there was something different now. Something very different. A change in the air.

“If you don’t mind…” David tried to shove Brian out of the picture, but he seemed immovable. Weird. Brian weighed barely his lifting weight at the gym.

“Yeah, Cameron, I **do** mind.” Brian was done chatting with Michael’s EX-boyfriend. He made sure to look directly into Michael’s eyes. The hand on the bony shoulder sloped down to rest on the neck and collarbone. His thumb soothed a sensitive spot. He could feel a main arterial vein pumping erratically. “Don’t go.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah… Don’t go.” Brian nodded his head to emphasize.

“Don’t…” Michael began. He hesitated because it finally dawned on him.

“… G-O.” Brian knew however he appeared to Michael at this moment, he was hoping his eyes shone loud and clear his real feelings. “I’ll see you later… yeah?”

Michael didn’t know how Brian even knew, but he’d given the exact response he’d wanted. It had been drumming in his head to accept David’s offer. But Brian… his eyes… the barest touch… the slightest caress and then those two little words giving him an answer he never would have gotten if he hadn’t prayed so hard. “Yeah… later…” He mumbled, not believing he could change his mind so quickly with two minor words uttered.

Brian leaned down, a feather light kiss to Michael’s open lips. Though meant to be short… it spoke of something. Something yet to come… if Michael was willing…

Michael furrowed his brow, long ago aches opening and gaping for air to heal. The second he knew Brian would walk away he latched on to those delicate hips, warm flesh against his knuckles. He tugged on the stretchy sweater. He liked the feel of cashmere on Brian’s soft skin. He knew the ending he had given to him… the longer, deeper kiss… spoke volumes what he was willing to sacrifice. But what he was also willing to wait for…

Brian smiled against those familiar lips, knowing exactly what he was doing, but thrilled he had no idea what the rest of his life had in store for him. He walked away, out of the bar, on the last words he heard from Michael’s mouth.

“David… I think we need to talk…”

Placing the unlit cigarette back into his mouth, Brian exited with the silliest grin on his face.

For once, Life… was good. Damn Good.  
 **  
***************************And End… of sorts…**

*********************************************  
 **DAMIAN‘s EPILOGUE -**

Damian eyed Brian’s exit, then stood back looking exactly as any bartender should washing glasses at the sink in the background. He was preparing to mix three drinks for a particular table, when he overheard a bit of the conversation happening in front of him. Well, more like his super-hearing powers were concentrated on them, so he snooped for Brian.

“… What? You can’t be serious, Michael. Out of all those times to put your trust in him… NOW you chosen to listen without fail. No doubts that he’ll kick you out of his bed?”

“I am allowed the opportunity to change, like I was given the opportunity to know what love outside of his realm felt like. I have that right, you know.”

Damian let out a small grin, pausing as he poured a variety of liquors into three varying tall glasses.

“Yeah, but…”

“Or, wait, would it be more like… I’m finally doing what ***I*** want, for a change?” Michael was conversing more with himself, then including David. He was still amped about Brian. He had seemed to acquire a born confidence built in his voice he never knew he had.

By looking at Michael, Damian could see he had done a good thing. A very good thing. He’d brought Brian and Michael back to when it all started to go sour.

This David guy seemed heavy-handed, yet wishy-washy. Like for years he’d been living one way of life, now suddenly in his quest to find himself he forgot to find a personality that fit him. He was a jumbled mess of different personas. Damian didn’t even bother trying to read the man’s mind, to confusing and messy.

Satisfied that Michael would hold his own, soon on his way to join Brian later tonight after turning down David’s offer, Damian set the three drinks on a tray, waving the waitress away. “I’ll be taking care of this table. I know them.”

“Huh… friends of yours?” The pixie-cut platinum blond smacked her gum.

Damian smirked, wiping his hands on the towel hanging from his belt loop. “Yeah… as ‘friends’ go, I suppose.”

“Okay…” The waitress wasn’t used to bartenders taking orders and serving the drinks themselves. “You sure you’ll be alright? After all, you did say you hadn’t done this before.”

“Nothing to it, like riding a bike.” Damian swiftly squeezed by, making his way over to the table he chose to serve on his own, his first full week of work.

Lesley… Glynnis… and a well-shaved, showered and fashionably dressed Roger tilted their heads, smiling as the ex-demon approached their table, serving them each their favorite drinks. He’d read their thoughts, like a pro. Using the powers he got from evil, for simple purposes.

“Oh, sweetie…” Glynnis took a tentative sip of her blood red drink. “Mmmm… a non-alcoholic margarita. I taste… uhm, berries?”

Damian nodded. “A great cherry and blackberry blend. That’s what gives it the red/black tinge.”

“Del-ish.” Glynnis was in heaven. Well, she lived in Heaven already, but… oh, never mind. Her toes tingled from the sweet/tart berry taste.

Roger took his glass while wiping his eyes with a clean handkerchief. “That kid…” He made a sweeping gesture toward Michael at the bar. “… is so breathtaking when he’s happy. And you… my buddy-o-pal-o…” He didn’t know if demons liked hugs so he stayed seated. “… are a bo-nee-fy-d Lifesaver.”

“Literally AND figuratively.” Leslie harrumphed, taking his apple martini. “I guess you’re not going to tell us how you managed to pull this off.”

“Do what now?” Damian played at being oblivious what was being asked of him.

“You broke a binding contract without really breaking it.” Lesley shook his head, impressed at the boy’s character.

Damian had been quite proud of himself, but he didn’t really want to dispel the mystery. When it happened it had been between he and Brian, now… Brian‘s memory of his battle had been lost, but Damian still had it. He made sure neither Brian nor Michael had any repercussions from the transfer. One thing he did know was that three people looked at him as if he’d found the Holy Grail. He knew exactly what they wanted to hear. So he vaguely told them about what had happened, skimming over parts they didn’t need to know.

Lesley shuffled in his seat, clearing his throat. There was something else he had known was about to happen. “What’s this I here about you getting a re-interview?’

Glynnis and Roger froze. What the-? That meant… Oh… wow.

Re-Interviews were only for Fallen Angels. That would mean the person conducting the re-interview would be none other than… The Big Guy, himself… Jesus…

“Good God.” Roger muttered, sipping his drink.

“Oh, Lord…”

“Why… yes, that’s correct.” Damian couldn’t believe it himself. “I, uh… He wants me at his office before noon. He told me to drop by and He’d find a way to squeeze me in.”

“Boy, look at me.” Roger looked Damian dead in the eyes.

Damian responded by gazing at Michael’s still somewhat scruffy Guardian Angel. “Yes, Roger.”

Roger sat back, stunned. “By jeepers, kid… you’re HIM.”

Glynnis looked between Roger and Damian. “HIM who?”

Lesley had some doubts, too. He knew something wasn’t right about Damian. “The HIM you’re temping for, Glynn.”

“You?” Glynnis stared intently at Damian, his eyes never wavered in dishonesty. “You were Brian Kinney’s Guardian Angel? I thought you went… uh, away?”

“I did leave, but I didn’t go nutso… like the rumors said. I… left. Had a better offer.”

“But you abandoned your client, with no word. That’s not…”

“What can I say, Kinney had a very idyllic manner about him that I wanted to emulate. Plus, he hadn’t needed me for years. I grew frustrated because he wouldn’t listen and every time I threw him a ‘bone’ he’d turn away. He acted like someone who never wanted to be born. Until he met Michael, but by then I was already gone” Damian shrugged, knowing that was enough of his story for now.

“You…” Roger waggled a finger at him. “… have some ’splaining to do.”

“Not here. Not now.” Damian flipped his wrist to glance at his watch. “My fifteen minute break is almost up. Look, guys, I get off at 11:30pm. Maybe we can talk later or something.”

“You actually like work? You LIKE working here… with all these… uh, people?”

“Souls, Glynn. They’re souls in need of saving. Do you know how many I’ve met tonight at the bar alone? Not to mention how hard my Tip Jar rocks.” Damian didn’t mention the jar to get a tip from them but they gave him one anyway, in celebration of his comeback.

“Not the quantity, son…” Lesley began.

And Roger finished. “… but the quality. And you sure made everything right with those boys. I think G-SUS will be hard pressed to see you ’fall’ again.”

Glynnis swatted Roger on the biceps near her arm. “Why do you say it like that?”

“ “cause that’s the way it’s on his business cards and all those paychecks he signs.”

“We’ll see… we shall see…” Damian said his “g’byes” and strolled back to his place behind the bar. He threw an extra towel over his shoulder and began to fill drink orders for new patrons.

Glynnis, Roger and Lesley looked on in wonder and bewilderment.

“He looks like he’s IN his element.”

“He seems eager to change. That’s a plus.’

“Yeah, A ’plus’ for Our Side.”

“ I don’t even dare say it, but he looks… content… kinda happy.”

All three shivered at the thought. Demons didn’t become happy from anything but evil… it simply threw them for a loop.

“Did anyone take a gander at his nametag?”

“It didn’t say ’Damian’?”

“Not his real name. Brian only called him ’Damian’.”

“What is his real name?”

“Sweetie, only God knows.”

“Exactly.”

********************************

Damian sat outside G-SUS’ offices, not sure how to promptly arrive for a “sometime before noon” appointment. So he figured two hours looked fair, not too ass-kissy.

G-SUS’ secretary sat at her desk and that seemed to be all she was good for. The phone had rung a few times, but that bothered her more. Distractions from the filing… of her nails.

A buzzer sounded, signaling the ’inner offices’ calling. That would actually be G-SUS’ suite of offices one floor above the secretary’s office.

“You can go up now, Mr. Tu-” The secretary tried to wrap her collagen-induced lips around the array of syllables, but there were too many vowels and not enough of the rest of the alphabet. “He’s been expecting you.” She pointed him in the direction of a bed of elevators. 

Once Damian climbed aboard and let the doors shut an angelic chorus of “HALLELUAH” penetrated his eardrums, causing him to shut his eyes in pain. Hell had rock music in their elevators. Okay some drawbacks in Heaven, but… no fires or intense, unbearable heat… so that was better.

The sharp *bing* alerted the elevator’s arrival on to G-SUS’ lobby area.

A huge gorilla-shaped bodyguard found Damian and was supposed to lead him toward the correct office door. Since the brute wore no nametag and had taken an unexpected vow of silence… Damian decided to call him Tree. He gave off enough shade to keep him cool for hours. He’d never felt so small in his non-life.

And… why did G-SUS need a bodyguard? Wasn’t he safe from harm? All omnipresent and all-seeing?

Tree reached a set of double doors and proceeded to open them both in a grand motion.

Damian really only needed one doorway to walk through. “Sir, you wanted to see…” A pink golf ball rolled across the long expanse of hardwood flooring and properly landed directly in between his buffed loafers. “… me.”

“Fore!!” G-SUS yelled toward the door. “Well… by George, speak of the Devil.” He shot Damian a “pistol” maneuver.

Damian gulped, trying to laugh through his nerves. “Good one. I’ll remember that.”

Coming from beyond a forest of potted greenery, G-SUS trotted over in a flash to give his guest a warm, welcoming one-arm hug. A golf club was in his other hand. “I can’t believe it’s really you. After all these years, it’s… still you.” He was fascinated by Damian’s short mop of hair, almost admiring it too much. He ruffled the wavy locks, like an older brother would his younger sibling. “How long has it been?” He adjusted his plaid golfing pants. He was completely decked out in full un-matching sporting gear.

Damian thought he’d go blind or get a migraine from all the different patterns displayed. “A lot longer than both of us assumed.”

“Yeah…” G-SUS nodded his head in agreement. “Luc does have a penchant for putting a nasty, all-encompassing thrall on people. I don’t blame you. A day doesn’t go by that I haven’t thought to succumb.”

“I’m sure he’d be a gracious host, but he’d kick you out within the week.”

“Yeah… he is certainly one mean neat freak, huh?”

“And… he’s really, really anal about it.”

G-SUS chuckled, directing Damian to take a seat in one of the chairs flanking his desk. “I’ll say. So… kid…” He leaned back on the front of his desk edge. “Tell me, what’s going on with your Life? Running an overstock of souls these days that you have to refuse when a person offers one on a plate?”

“Yeah… Luc wasn’t too pleased.” Damian snickered, recalling the venomous phone messages he’d gotten on his voicemail.

“Eh… he’s a stickler for rules and you broke one. Bad, bad demon.” G-SUS shook a finger at Damian.

“Yeah, I know. Weird. Never thought it would be ME to come back. I figured I’d be gone for good.”

“Kinney’s an interesting soul, as you already know. Bit misguided. I thought you’d done decently by him, from before… and even the other day with he and Michael. That was a beauty, I’ll remember it always. I know he put you through… A LOT… when he was a kid. I wasn’t sure you could handle the situation, but you did.” G-SUS didn’t have to say much to show how proud he was, he always seemed to “glow” with his emotion of the moment. Kind of a mood killer, really.

“It wasn’t why I couldn’t take his soul. See, it was those few seconds I was with Michael. When the accident happened and I merged with him, I could see Brian through new eyes. They were different than any way I’d seen him before.” Damian shook his head. He was sure he couldn’t shake those feelings. Michael was a powerfully emotional soul… and he’d given Damian a second chance at bettering himself. “I’d known Brian all his life, but this… this was brand new. I felt… like I could touch Heaven… and it was an awesome feeling. I don’t know how exactly to convey this to you, so you’ll understand.”

G-SUS knew, no explanation needed. “Luc found you at your weakest, I know. We’ve all been there. Stop berating yourself over the choices you made. You’re here now.” He leaned over to soothe Damian’s shoulder. Even though he had passels of angels and staff behind him… this one… was special.

Damian was stunned. “Are you always this forgiving?”

“You try resurrecting after being crucified in public… and I’ll show you real forgiveness.” G-SUS noticed Damian hesitating. “You know you can still touch Heaven. I’ve always been here, waiting for you to come back home.”

“Sir…”

“G-”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Time is all any of us immortals have.”

“Listen, I’m willing. I’m not giving up. But I have to know that I can serve a grander purpose, as well.”

“So… I shouldn’t offer you your old job back?”

Damian shook his head to decline. “Slowly. I want to take baby steps. I don’t want to fail again and slip back. A few redemption gigs, here and there. Enough to show how serious I am about this.” He looked up to gaze at the well-known features. A face that tended to humble him on sight.

“See this?” G-SUS was in the process of pulling of his golf cap.

“What?”

G-SUS tried to straighten out his unruly mane of burnished gold locks. They fell down past his shoulders. “Want to guess what I’m serious about THIS month?” At Damian’s chuckle behind his hand and the nod of his head, G-SUS continued. “This… oppressive hair of mine! I don’t have any sign of bangs… it frizzes like Jiffy Pop in warm climates and after I get out of the shower. AND… not to mention the split ends and finding hair… EVERYWHERE. Shedding, I am. Like a dog.” To prove his last point he pulled a long strand off his sweater that had been dangling in his eye.

Damian tried to compose himself. Yes, G-SUS was quite passionately serious about this issue. He was becoming relieved of his own doubts and worries. “Uhm, can’t you just… I don’t know… silly, really… but can’t you cut it?’

“Uhm, no… hellloooo… HOLY HAIR here!! Do you know how long this ‘look’ has been my hitch? It’s worked for me since I created this world, but now…” G-SUS sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “THEY tell me if I cut it or get a different style… my… what did THEY say?… oh, my effervescence is lost or it dissipates and people will wander aimlessly from me. Like MY people won’t recognize me and mistake me for like… a meter reader or a plumber. As if my glowing aura isn’t enough of a hint! I even think the halo would rest comfortably if I shaved it all off.”

“A bit drastic, don’t you think?”

G-SUS folded his arms over his chest. “THEY are the Vatican, you know?! I cut one inch of hair and they’ll freak out, thinking it’s another stigmata and revolution will ensue and I’ve got papal roomies for three months. Should’ve seen the stink they rose when I thought about ditching the ‘sandals’… it was like Apocalypse Central Alert. I found some really nice socks, is all… and I wanted to try these cool pair of sneakers some of the basketball players wore. They gave me extra lift when I needed it. See, no harm… no danger… no death and dying. Just Nike.”

“What can THEY say about it? You are ‘above’ them, aren’t you? They kind of work for you.”

“Because… I’m loyal, like a puppy. And, back in the day, they used to have the ‘pulse’ on the world. These days they seem stuck in ultra retro mode, not to mention any time I mention ‘change’ they throw my words back in my face.”

“Luc says The Book is fake. That it didn’t happen exactly as it states.”

“Well, he is right about that. Sort of, I mean, it’s a bit too dramatic for me to read through it all to double check everything. It’s very… wordy, too. I mean… everybody seems to understand me now… and I’ve always talked like this. Luc likes to gripe about The Book because it sheds him in a very nasty light. Even I know he’s not THAT evil, but… it’s someone else’s opinion of me… so… what can I do?”

“Yeah… sorry.” Damian meant about the years he’d tried to forget a man like the one in front of him held any kind of credibility in not only his life but everyone else’s.

“Eh, you get used to it. You try to make people know the truth, but… really… that’s what freedom is…” G-SUS put down his golf club on the desktop, turning toward Damian. “So… you ready for a good round of racquetball ?’

“You serious?” Damian stood, hoping he didn’t have to hurt G-SUS’ feelings today. He hated losing in any sport.

“The hair, yes… racquetball… not so much. I don’t need to win EVERY game. And… it’s really a ploy to talk to you about another job offer that came my way.” G-SUS wrapped a friendly arm about Damian’s shoulders.

“Really? Any hints before we hit the court?” Damian nodded to Tree on his way out of the large office.

“Kinney has a baby son… Gus…”

Damian smiled sweetly. “Yeah… and…?”

G-SUS shrugged. “Thinking… power brainstorming here. Gus is young enough where you can keep an eye out for Kinney, as well. Doesn’t have to be your ‘official’ duty, but you’ll help out when you can.”

“Maybe.”

They entered the elevators.

Damian looked over, noticing G-SUS in racquetball gear, with headband included to hold back his flowing mane of hair. He rubbed a hand down his chest to see… he was almost similarly garbed, too.

Nifty trick… and quite convenient.

As they rode the elevator up two more floors, a muzak version of _“What If God Was One of Us”_ played over the speakers.

“I like the original better.” G-SUS voiced his opinion, although he was humming along very easily, bopping his head to the mellowed tune.

“Me, too… me, too…” Damian chuckled and thought… yeah… Brian had been right… Life was definitely good, for once.

  
 *******************THE REAL END**


End file.
